


in life after life, in age after age

by dreamrecurrentdreams



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, 쓸쓸하고 찬란하神 - 도깨비 | Goblin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, M/M, Multiverse Travel, Processing Trauma, Reverse Robins, Slow Burn, Suicidal Ideation, Yearning, oh my god do they yearn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:41:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 30,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24103819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamrecurrentdreams/pseuds/dreamrecurrentdreams
Summary: Jason should have known better by now.After becoming the Knight of Gotham, moving from universe to universe, building his life up in one world only to be flung into the next to start from scratch once more, he should have known better by now than to ruin himself by loving the people he shouldn't have. After all, that was the deck of cards he’d been handed after dying and coming back to life a second time: a hundred years of solitude and some change.(alternately titled: in which Jason Todd is condemned to an eternity of wandering the multiverse until he finds a home in Dick Grayson)
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown/Cassandra Cain, Tim Drake/Damian Wayne
Comments: 42
Kudos: 123





	1. guardian: the lonely and great knight of gotham

**Author's Note:**

> back at it again after watching the k-drama "goblin: the lonely and great god" and realizing a crossover with the batfam was in order. writing this fic has been been an uplifting and cathartic process at a time like this - thank you for allowing me to share this story with you :)  
>   
> a few notes -  
> a) this fic has essentially placed dcu characters in the plot of "goblin" where a 939-year old immortal falls in love with a human high school student in a world of gods and grim reapers. i've revised some details like narrowing the age gap so that jason is 122 years old (though he maintains he's 22!) and dick is 18 years old - but note that an age and experience gap still exists.  
> b) as to not overload the tags for the whole story, i'll be posting individual content warnings for each chapter.  
>  **content warnings for this chapter include narration of child abuse and traumatic events that happen in different dc universes. ******

Ch 1 - 

**Gotham, Prime Earth -**

Jason would die for the second time on a Tuesday night, lying on his back with his palms resting on the cold cobblestones of the alleyway and his eyes locked onto the dark sky above. 

He had at least ripped the helmet off before his body had given out on him so he could feel the cool wind brushing against his face. It felt nice. He wanted it to take him away, away from the searing weight of the bullets buried in his flesh, the metallic tang of the blood filling his lungs, the leaden realization that he had been brought back into this world only to leave it this soon.

He had thought that if he were to die once more, he would do so fighting to the very end. But he was tired now, wished he could go gentle into that good night, but the solid hand on his shoulder wouldn’t let him go. 

“Dick,” he said and the name that usually caught in his throat was slippery now in his bloodied mouth, but the man understood anyway.

“I’m here, Jay.” Dick’s voice was quiet, cracking around the edges.

Jason breathed in, then out. He would never be able to say any of the things he wanted to in response, so he mustered what strength he had to rasp out instead, “Enough?”

Dick’s grip tightened. “Yes. Always.”

Jason’s eyes burned. He couldn’t, wouldn’t let Dick see him like this so he fixed his gaze on the moon above, its quiet glow grounding him, and thought about flying, the wind whistling in his ears, the sprawl of Gotham below.

Jason died with the sky reflected in his eyes and the blood spilling beneath his body. He would take to the grave with him his gratitude for not having died alone this time.

**The Afterlife -**

The first time he had gone six feet under, he remembered standing in complete, still darkness. He was naked, his body emitting a faint glow, and when he looked down, he saw the autopsy scar stretching across his chest, stark even among the mottling of bruises from the crowbar and burns from the bomb. Death apparently only had the generosity to cleanse the blood from his body but leave all the injuries he had sustained until death.

He stood on a pool of crystal clear water, his bare feet touching the surface but never breaking it. The water rippled when a voice spoke to him from the darkness. “Name of the deceased is Jason Todd. 15 years old at the time of death. Born on August 16th. Died on April 27th. Cause of death is assault by crowbar and detonation of an explosive. Can you confirm?”

Jason resisted the instinct to wrap his arms around himself, clenching his hands into fists instead. “Tell me something I don’t know,” he snarled.

“It’s best to double-check. Death makes mistakes too, believe it or not.” A vaguely human silhouette appeared in front of him and Jason instinctively stepped back, taking in its featureless face and its sharply pressed suit. “You shouldn’t be afraid. If anything, I should be afraid of you.”

It raised a gloved hand. “My apologies. That wasn’t meant as an insult. I just meant that you exist as an exception among the deceased, the likes of which I rarely see and which quite frankly unsettle me a bit.” It tilted its head. “You asked me to tell you something you don’t know. I’ve got something good for you: You’re dead but you won’t be staying that way.”

The words came to Jason from far away, echoed in his ears without landing. “What?”

The figure regarded him steadily. “Your time has yet to come.”

“Don’t,” Jason said and his throat was closing up but he forced the words out anyways. “Don’t you dare fucking lie to me and tell me there’s a happy ending to all of this.” Like crawling towards his mother’s motionless body in the bathtub and convincing himself she must have fallen asleep, must have been dreaming of such nice things she wouldn’t wake up. Like lying on the cold floor of the warehouse, absorbing blow after blow from the crowbar, and grasping faintly at the thought B would come for him, make everything all right again.

“I wouldn’t lie to you, Jason. Honesty’s one of the few things I’m known for,” Death said. It slid its hands into its pockets and assessed him for a moment. “What happens next will be difficult to bear but you’re no stranger. to hardship. Look down, if you please.” 

Jason couldn’t have resisted the direction, even if he tried. He looked down, only to find the pool of water beneath him crystallizing, hardening into gleaming ice. He had time only to take a startled breath before it shattered, plunging him down, down, down until he burst into a new kind of darkness, a decayed, mildewed one that pressed against him, filled him with fear as he twisted around in the tight space. He couldn’t think, couldn’t feel, could only act on the desire to break free of it, clawing and kicking at the surface with bloodied hands and feet until it eventually yielded against his relentless blows.

The rest was history.

But for the second time now, Jason had returned to the voice that awaited him after death. It was the same as the last time but he stood taller, stronger this time and the bruises and burns had been replaced by bullet holes. 

“Jason Todd, age 22, birthdate August 16th,” a voice rapped out. “Previously died on April 27th due to a bomb explosion, was resurrected and continued to live an additional seven years, currently deceased as of September 19th after engaging in a fatal shootout. Did I miss anything?”

“No, you got it,” Jason said. He lifted his head to stare in front of him. “You’re different from the last one, aren’t you?”

Death 2.0 melted out of the darkness, tipping its hat at him. “Well met, Jason. You’re one of the peculiar few who will ever have the dubious honor of encountering multiple grim reapers in the span of one lifetime.” 

“Freak of nature, tested and true,” Jason replied. He let his mouth twitch into a crooked grin, even as he shoved down the tightening feeling in his chest. “Fire and brimstone’s next on the docket for me, right? What’s that going to look like: the 7th Circle, Sheol, Naraka?”

The grim reaper paused. “Not quite. Though it’s commendable you’re this well read on the afterlife. The fact you’ve included only realms of hell indicates you’re more than aware of the destruction you left in the wake of your life, albeit destruction born out of your efforts to forge a future of peace for your city.”

“So what? The powers that be ask you to give me a pat on the back before giving me a one way ticket to Hell?”

“The powers that be,” it said, enunciating the words carefully, “have dictated your fate to read as follows --”

It raised a hand and a sword, blazing with green fire, soared into its outstretched fingers. Before Jason could react, the grim reaper raised the sword and stabbed him.

The force of the sword piercing his body was enough to bring Jason to his knees, knocking the wind from his body. Staring up into the blank face of his assailant, Jason instinctively took a breath, expecting his lungs to strain, but inhaling was effortless. At the realization he felt no pain radiating from the sword buried in him, his breath tumbled out in a shell-shocked exhale. Jason reached up to grasp the hilt of the sword. It was solid. 

“You’ve been cursed and gifted with the Blade of Immortality, Jason Todd,” the grim reaper said to him. “To punish and reward you for the life you have led, you will be eternally condemned to wander through the multiverse but designated the Knight of Gotham and given the power to protect the city as its guardian whatever universes you travel through. Your immortality will come to an end when you reach a world where you will meet the human destined to become the Knight’s bride, whose fate will be to pull the blade from your body and release you from this curse.” Then, after a moment’s pause, it blandly added, “Congratulations and condolences.”

Jason’s hands fell from the hilt of the sword as he rocked back on his heels and stood up again to squarely face the grim reaper. “Fuck you,” he said calmly and then clocked the bastard in the face.

He had put all his strength into that one punch, had stored his mounting rage ( _punished for the life you led)_ slow-moving grief ( _eternally condemned to wander)_ traitorous hope ( _given the power to protect the city)_ into shoulder into arm into fist colliding into object and in that one moment, topped Death incarnate. If he had hit a person, they would’ve been sent flying. The grim reaper, however, only stumbled back, gloved hand rising to touch its face. 

“Interesting,” it said and Jason relished the fact its blank voice was tinged with something close to surprise. “No human has ever been able to lay a hand on me before.”

“I’m not just any human.” Jason took a step forward and the sword hilt flickered with a dancing green flame. “And I didn’t fucking ask for any of this.”

“Correct. You know as well as I do, Mr. Todd, the way things work in life and what follows after. All any of us can do is face our fates with the resolve to make what we will of the time allotted to us. To that point, taking your disappointment out on me is unlikely to be a productive use of your time. I’d advise you in fact to adhere to the human proverb ‘don’t shoot the messenger.’”

Of all things, the grim reaper had to sound uncannily like Alfred in this moment. Jason swallowed, reining in the surge of emotion threatening to overtake him. “I haven’t shot anyone in five years,” he said. 

“Correct. Let’s hope you will maintain this trend in your next lifetime.” It picked up its hat that had fallen when Jason punched it, and gestured to the pool of water. “Now then, are you ready to proceed?”

“At least you had the courtesy to give me a fucking warning this time.” Jason rolled his shoulders back and cracked his neck. “Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

The last thing Jason heard before the water froze over and splintered beneath his feet was the grim reaper repeating to itself, “‘Blow this popsicle stand.’ Fascinating. This must be a new one.” And then he fell.

**The Multiverse -**

And then Jason landed.

And then he moved from universe to universe, building his life up in one world only for a portal to open up beneath him and fling him into the next destination to start over from scratch. Rinse, repeat, and a hundred years of multiverse travel had passed.

Before all this - from Crime Alley to Wayne Manor to safehouses scattered throughout Gotham to around the world with the Outlaws - Jason had become an expert at moving without becoming too attached to any one location, having known that if there was nowhere he could belong to, he’d have to carve out his own place wherever he went. But traveling between universes, where he was relegated back to square one every time he was transported to a new world with its own set of rules and characters, was a whole different matter. Through a trial-and-error process, he’d come to develop a routine over time.

Step one was to scope out the scene and establish himself accordingly. As Red Hood, Jason had mastered the art of of identifying the power players, setting himself up as a force to be reckoned with, and accomplishing his objectives through strategic alliances and enmity - but as a multiverse traveler, he had to readjust his approach to account for the fact the good guys in one world could as easily become corrupt bastards in the next or vice versa. He never thought he’d have to duke it out with Superman the ruthless dictator or take down Alfred and the Secret Society of Super-Villains - or on the flip side, team up with Slade Wilson to protect orphans against the zombie apocalypse or join Harley Quinn to break Cass out of jail in a whirlwind of glitter and confetti. 

At the very least, he’d never encountered an alternate universe version of himself, for better or worse, in any of the worlds he ended up in; he was neither interested in witnessing how much cruelty Jason Todd in another world was capable of inflicting nor cared to try imagining a copy of himself that was respectable and understanding. He liked his antihero status fine enough. 

Step two was to eliminate the evil that appeared in whatever Gotham he was in. His desire to fight tooth and nail to make sure good people saw the light of tomorrow would never change, no matter how many universe leaps happened - but he didn’t necessarily end up going about it the same way, given the limitations and freedoms each world offered. After all, as he’d deduced from a number of universe leaps, his stay could range from anywhere from four months to four years. Seeing that “crime lord” or “mercenary” were no longer viable career options - he had a feeling the higher powers wouldn’t respond too well to that - Jason resorted instead to the strategy of taking part-time jobs to leave enough time to fight crime in his spare hours - working as a bartender, librarian, a mechanic - incidentally at the same garage as Harper Row - and so on. Granted, they weren’t the highest-paying jobs but he no longer needed as much gear as before. Becoming the Knight of Gotham did have some perks, like how he could now open portals to teleport anywhere in the city limits of Gotham or that he could see the near future of anyone he touched. And that he was immortal, thanks to the sword of hellfire permanently buried in his body.

In a distant memory, Tim had once taught him while they were playing video games together what the term OP had meant. When Jason had raised an eyebrow at him, Tim huffed under his breath about generation gaps and explained to him that OP meant overpowered, characters so insanely strong they were broken, as in they broke the gameplay system. The logic hadn’t made sense to Jason at the time. People could become broken in ways that would drive them to be strong - but never the other way around. But as the Knight of Gotham, he understood too well what Tim had meant. Opening portals meant he would never be too late to arrive at the scene - as long as he knew where to go and what was happening. And as long as he made skin-to-skin contact with the right people, he’d have the intel to discern how things were going to go down and what he could do to make that vision a reality or fiction. Immortality helped immensely in terms of taking any and all risks he could to carry out his operations, knowing he’d come out on the other side alive. In the end, Jason couldn’t claim to be anywhere near deity status - activating his precognition was a pain in the ass, every wound he sustained still hurt, he would never have enough energy to intervene in every situation - but he was able to significantly change the tide in favor of far more people than he had ever imagined he would back in his original world.

Which led to step three of choosing the right people to have his back but knowing not to become too involved in their lives. Which he inevitably failed at every fucking time. Sure, he knew not to insert himself into their lives when he’d be gone soon enough; it didn’t change the fact his traitorous heart had to go and care about them anyways. So even though he’d gotten sharper and stronger as the Knight of Gotham, even though decades had passed and he should have known better by now, he still allowed himself to be ruined by loving all the people he shouldn’t have.

It hurt. It hurt capturing and chaining down a snarling Talon, begging him to remember what it felt like to fly and watching his blank gold eyes crumble, his body ravaged by scars and burns now convulsing in wordless sobs. Cradling the body of Joker Junior, the shell of Tim Drake who clung to him weeping, smearing white face paint and tears into Jason’s neck. Fighting Damian, face twisting in enraged pain as he panted through ragged breaths that he hadn’t meant to kill Dick, that it was an accident, that it wasn’t his fault. 

Roy, bawling in front of Lian’s small and still body. Kori, burning cities to the ground and letting the screams fade into the smoke.

Bruce, silently bowed over Alfred’s mangled body in the Batcave. 

It hurt so goddamn much.

At least, he hadn’t been entirely alone in shouldering the pain, as selfish as it was to be grateful for such a thing. In the world where Tim had been tortured and transformed into Joker Junior, Babs had been there with Jason to watch over Tim’s recovery. When Damian killed Dick and joined Superman’s regime, Bruce had been the one by his side to stop Damian. In other worlds, he became an informant to any members of the Batfamily he could rely on to have a steady moral compass. For them to in turn offer their trust and company to someone like Jason who should’ve been a complete stranger was more than he could ask. And sometimes, during brief moments, it felt like things would be all right. Like marathoning Quentin Tarantino movies with Duke and going out for burgers and milkshakes with Steph and Cass. Like being invited to Kate’s wedding - which he most certainly did _not_ cry at - in one universe and in another, drinking with Dick, having Dick look at him under pretty lashes and tell him _you’re a miracle, aren’t you, Mr. Knight?_

But it never lasted. Because he vanished an hour after Dick looked at him like he hung the moon and stars; a day after watching Kate and Renee promise to be with each other for the rest of their lives; months after Steph, Cass, and Duke; years that started to blur.

Because that was the deck of cards he’d been handed after dying and coming back to life a second time: a hundred years of solitude and more. 

**Gotham, Earth γ**

The truth is, even all this time, Jason had been thinking of the day his curse would be broken. Sometimes, during idle moments, he let himself indulge in what it would mean for him of all people, who knew how to be alone, to have a _bride_ before he reminded himself that this person had been completely screwed over to have been given the fate of becoming the Knight’s bride without any say in the matter. No one would want to share their life with him of their own volition, his cynicism helpfully added. 

Other times, when he couldn’t fall asleep because his mind played back the years that consumed him in a blazing roar of light and sound, when he stumbled into the bathroom to stare at himself in the mirror and at how his wounds knitted themselves back together unceasingly while the burn of the blade buried in his chest ached and the pain that followed him throughout the worlds pooled in his body, he thought about what it would be like to be laid to rest, to sink into a darkness where nothing would hurt anymore. 

And yet, he still wasn’t prepared to arrive at the world that promised his release from the curse. This time, he landed in the middle of an empty street this time, only to feel his chest seize up when a shadow loomed over him and said, “We have been expecting you, Knight of Gotham.”

It was the first time any universe had awaited his arrival. 

And when Jason picked himself off the ground to confront the speaker, he stared up at an adult Damian, taller than him by a few inches, dressed in a suit that fit his broad shoulders and lean waist impeccably. He looked the way Bruce did when he had first picked Jason off the streets, older than any other version of Damian Jason had met thus far. 

“Damian,” Jason said. “It’s you, right? You’ve grown up.”

There was a stony silence. “I don’t have a given name. You should know better than that, Knight.” Jason took in Damian’s black suit once more, his jade eyes devoid of pupils underneath tightly drawn brows, the silver glow to his skin. But what gave it away was the black hat Damian carefully placed back on his head with gloved hands. _So this is what it’s like to see the face of a grim reaper_ , Jason thought and swallowed down the implications of what it meant for Damian to appear as one in this world. He shot Damian a lopsided grin instead. “My bad, grim reaper. But it’s too long to call you that every time. Can I call you GR for short? Pronounced ‘grr’?”

“Don’t be absurd!” Damian snapped and the indignant anger that laced his monotone voice now was enough to make the tightness in Jason’s chest loosen. “As I was saying, Knight, my colleagues and I have been anticipating your arrival. Mortality rates are expected to drop to a record-breaking low due to your interference. Do you intend to take responsibility?”

“How? ‘Sorry I’m going to be saving more lives and making your job harder to collect on Gotham’s souls?’ Well, I’m not. And you can tell your boss that word for word if they’ve got a problem with it.” At the pinched look in Damian’s expression, Jason frowned. “What, do you get in trouble if you don’t fulfill your death quotas on a monthly basis or something? Like being demoted or having your pay cut? Do you even get paid in the first place?”

“I had been warned you would be a troublesome character, Knight, but I hadn’t imagined how obnoxious you would be,” Damian responded stiffly instead. “And no, I am self-employed in addition to upholding my duties as a grim reaper, which provides me a sufficient source of income to supply my human vessel.” He gestured to the storefront behind him.

“That’s yours?” Jason studied the neatly painted sign with curling script that read _Gotham Tea House_ , and the shelves with beautifully crafted teacups and neatly packaged tea blends in the display window. Behind the glass pane, he could see little wooden tables illuminated under the warm glow of lights above. Damian had done well for himself here.

“Do you serve shahi haleeb?” he asked.

Damian imperceptibly froze before turning a scrutinizing eye on him. “Yes, I do. It’s not a commonly requested tea. Not in this city, at least.”

“No,” Jason said. “It wouldn’t be.” In his original universe, it had been Damian’s favorite tea that Alfred learned how to make for him so he would feel more at home at Wayne Manor. Jason had asked about it after the first time he picked up the sweet, spicy notes of cardamom, cinnamon, and nutmeg wafting through the kitchen. Alfred had graciously passed on the recipe and Jason had committed it to memory to brew for Damian whenever he climbed in through Jason’s windows wordlessly, reddened eyes and taut expression clear giveaways that he’d fought with Bruce and needed to let off steam somewhere else.

He hadn’t made the tea in a long time. None of the Damians in the other worlds had ever let Jason in to the extent that they would drink tea together.

The tea this universe’s Damian served him tasted exactly the same. Jason had to swallow down the pang of nostalgia before he could place the teacup back in its platter and say, “It’s good.”

“Thank you,” Damian said and that was enough of a shock for Jason to choke on his next sip. When he looked up, he found Damian smirking. “Is it that surprising for me to show such rudimentary manners? I must have been a menace in your original universe.”

Jason snorted at that in spite of himself. “Menace is one way of putting it,” he agreed. “We all called you ‘demon brat’ back in the day except for Dick.” 

For a moment, a flash of what looked like wistfulness crossed Damian’s face. In the next, his expression had shuttered. “I hope you recognize what a foolhardy endeavor it would be to conflate me with this Damian of yours. For one, I have no past you will ever claim to know. Secondly, I cannot afford to be so familiar with living humans in my current role, least of all a troublemaker like yourself. Do you understand, Knight?” 

Jason met Damian’s gaze squarely. “I don’t think I qualify as a living human. ‘Living?’ Questionable. ‘Human’, definitely not anymore,” he replied. “And my name’s not Knight. It’s Jason. Jason Todd. Got it?” 

“Tt. Why should I? I don’t intend to cross paths with you and certainly won’t ever be referring to you by name as if we’re - as if we’re _close_.”

Stopping himself short of rolling his eyes at Damian’s irate tone, Jason pointed at the little sign propped up at the store counter. It had caught his attention as soon as he had come in and while he waited for Damian to make the tea, he rested his forearms on the countertop and read the sign multiple times to make sure. He recited it out loud now. “Looking for a roommate to share the upper residential floor with. Males preferred, must be neat and respectful of established quiet hours. Inquire for more details.” He gestured to himself. “Well, here I am, checking all the boxes and inquiring for more details. You could say it’s almost fate we met - you, in need of a roommate, and me, in need of a place to stay.”

“No,” Damian said instantaneously. “Absolutely not.”

“How much is rent?”

“Too high for the likes of you,” Damian retorted. He pointedly looked Jason up and down.

Jason pulled out his wallet and began counting out crisp bills to toss in front of Damian. Twelve Ben Franklins later, he folded his arms smugly. “Monthly rent in this part of Gotham should be about this much. If you want to up the rent, you can fucking try.” 

Damian slowly picked up the bills to examine them. Apparently they passed muster because he set them down with a scowl and snapped, “So you have the capacity to pay rent because you happened to amass wealth in your time as a multiverse traveler, congratulations. What makes you think I’ll accept you over any other potential candidates, Todd?”

“You haven’t outright turned me away yet because you’ve sensed you can trust me with who you are without having to pull your punches. Versus other ordinary people who you’ll have to evade and deceive to prevent them from stumbling on your secret at any given time, which is too much work to put up with on top of your current duties.” He leaned in to deliver the final blow. “Besides, you like me. You called me Todd just now.” Close up, he had a stellar view of Damian’s face flushing with surprise, then horror, then mortified anger at last. 

“I did not, Knight!” Damian hissed. “And if you irk me for any longer, consider your lease terminated before you’ve even had the chance to sign it.” He stood up stiffly though he picked up Jason’s teacup and platter with care before sweeping away.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he snapped at a nonplussed Jason. “You’ll have to take a tour of the residence to determine if it’s up to your standards.”

“Trust me, that won’t be a problem!” Jason called as he pushed in his chair and followed after Damian. He stifled a smile. It had been a while too since he had argued with Damian like this.

________________________

Damian’s place was, in fact, on the nicer side compared to some of his previous digs. Jason placed his rucksack of the ten or so worldly possessions he still owned on the bedside drawer, pulled out his laptop to double-check it was working (which it unsurprisingly was; whoever or whatever condemned him to a fate of multiverse traveling had at least the courtesy to ensure Jason’s tech survived every universe leap), pestered Damian for the WiFi password, and spent the rest of the day Googling to learn the ins and outs of this world.

Bruce Wayne along with his parents had been murdered that fateful day in Crime Alley. The world had moved on and Jason convinced himself too he didn’t feel a void gnawing at his stomach at the thought of another universe that was missing Bruce and Batman.

Instead, there were reports of a vigilante who called herself Huntress claiming Gotham under her protection. Even without the existence of Batman, it made sense that Helena Bertinelli would eventually find her way back to the vigilante lifestyle, burning with righteous rage. 

She also wasn’t alone. The Birds of Prey, consisting of Black Canary, Poison Ivy, and Catwoman, was very much confirmed to be active, even if those who had the misfortune of encountering any of the three rarely had a chance to sneak a glimpse before having their asses handed to them.

Jason was biased, of course, but he’d always felt that the Birds of Prey, formidable in any universe he’d ended up in, was lacking without Babs’s strength, brilliance, and leadership.

The Gotham Gazette confirmed that Barbara Gordon, daughter of respected GCPD Commissioner Jim Gordon, had been murdered at the age of nineteen by the serial killer Joker. 

Jason slammed a fist on the desk, narrowly avoided leaving a dent, and thought a smoke break might be in order. He knew Damian wouldn’t tolerate smoke anywhere in his establishment so he slipped out the window and onto the street below, roamed until he found the nearest corner store to buy himself a pack of L&Ms and smoked in the next door alley.

All across the multiverse, there had not been a single world where members of the Batman family hadn’t met terrible ends. A century later, it hadn’t become easier in the slightest to bear; he’d be lying to himself if he said the acrid taste in his mouth came from the cigarette and not from the curdling bitterness of inevitable tragedy wrought by the hands of Joker in yet another world.

After he had regained his composure, resolving to bring sunflowers to Babs’s grave in Gotham Cemetery, he returned to his place, cracked his knuckles, and continued his investigation. He allowed himself the satisfaction of reading that Joker had died a year after, a crossbow bolt buried in his throat, before looking into the others. Without Bruce, he was sure their lives were a drastic departure from the vigilante lifestyle. 

Or maybe not, he conceded, as he looked up Tim Drake, owner of beloved hole-in-the-wall comic book shop “Dungeons and Drakes Comics.” Jason felt his mouth quirk up at the admittedly clever pun before his attention was drawn to a promotion on Tim’s website, advertising a partnership between his shop and the neighboring tattoo parlor run by Stephanie Brown. He huffed at that. At least this universe won points for bringing Tim and Steph together and accepting the consequences of their unholy tag team. He clicked on Steph’s shop website - aptly named “Spoiled for Choice Tattoos” - and found not only Steph’s profile as the owner, praised for her colorful personality and tattooing style, but a profile of “Cassandra King”, a tattoo artist complimented for her elegant inking and quiet but attentive approach to her customers. If Cass was there too, he was sure Tim and Steph would be more than fine. 

Duke was doing well for himself as a junior at Gotham University studying Forensic Science who’d been featured in campus news for his activism. 

And Dick - 

Dick was a high school senior at Gotham City High School. 

It was the first time that Jason had found himself in a world where he was older than Dick. “Not your little wing anymore, huh?” he said to the image of Dick on screen, smiling for his senior year photo. He looked so _young_ , with his bright blue eyes and dimpled smile and smooth rosy cheeks. But something about Dick’s expression made him stop short. He zoomed in, took note of how Dick’s eyes pulled tight around the corners, a fading bruise by his left temple, a cut by his mouth that must have been covered by concealer, given Jason was only able to pick up on it after enhancing the screen resolution and noticing the faint line. 

Jason had to swallow down his rising anger to run a search on Dick. 

Five years ago, John and Mary Grayson had fallen to their deaths from a high wire during their act as the Flying Graysons. That meant Dick had spent the past five years in the custody of a distant relative by the name of William Cobb - a man who according to government records had Child Protective Services called on him but hadn’t been charged with abuse due to insufficient evidence. 

Jason saw red for a moment, a rage that boiled inside him that he made himself suppress in order to focus on the task at hand - find Dick Grayson and ensure no one would ever lay a hand on him like that ever again. 

________________________

It took him nearly a day to find Dick - and even then, he would say Dick was the one who found _him._ He had discreetly staked out Gotham City High School, only to find that Dick had been marked absent for the day, and with dread pooling in his stomach at the implications of Dick missing classes, swung by William Cobb’s apartment to see if he was there. Jason had half a mind to pay Cobb a one-of-a-kind visit even if Dick wasn’t present but realized very quickly that the place was vacant. At this rate, he was just about ready to hack into GCPD’s security footage around the city to see if any of them caught Dick on camera when he saw gray smoke curling out of the corner of his eye. He sighed at the terrible timing of it all, turning to see what the source of the smoke was only to feel an invisible force tug at him, pulling him into thin air. Jason only had a moment to latch onto the disorienting feeling of travelling, to wonder fleetingly who could have opened a portal and pulled him through, before he felt himself materialize again, boots sinking into the softness of grass underfoot.

Even as a born and bred Gothamite, it took him a moment to realize he was in Robinson Park, standing along the bank of the reservoir. Coming from Crime Alley, he’d never felt the need to step foot in a space designated for nice, respectable people. 

Which raised the question of what could have drawn him here. He looked around, only to freeze at the sight of Dick Grayson sitting on a park bench a few feet away from him.

Dick hadn’t noticed him yet, head lowered towards the birthday cake in his lap, the single candle still smoking. Jason watched as Dick blinked away tears, biting on his bottom lip to keep any sound from spilling out. He took a shuddering breath, and then another, before pushing up the sleeves of his overly huge sweatshirt to swipe at his eyes.

Jason felt his chest tighten. This universe’s Dick cried the same way as the Dick he’d grown up with. But as his eyes landed on Dick’s arms, his sleeves rolled up to reveal cigarette burns littering his upper arms where no one would see them, the protectiveness welling up inside him crystallized into cold anger. 

And then Dick noticed him, looking at him with shocked blue eyes.

They stared at each other for a moment and Jason tried to slam a lid on his emotions, tenderness and rage and God knows what else battling for his attention. He swallowed. 

“You called?”

Dick was still gazing up at him, drinking in the sight of him with something close to wonder. “I... I made a wish,” he said. “Did you come because of that?” He scrutinized Jason closely. “This isn’t me making things up in my head right? You’re real?”

At Jason’s nod, Dick studied him, apparently deep in thought before his eyes lit up triumphantly. “You’re my guardian angel, aren’t you?” He set the cake down. “Oh my God, I have a guardian angel now! Where have you been all my life?” 

“I just got here a few days ago,” Jason responded automatically before realizing the rest of Dick’s words registered. “Guardian angel,” Jason said flatly, gesturing to his scarred face, his battered leather jacket, and his worn boots.

“Like a hot, grizzled, bad boy kind of guardian angel!” Dick insisted with a grin. “Maybe God wanted to spice things up for me.”

Jason scrubbed a hand over his face. “What was your wish?” 

The smile faded from Dick’s face. “It’s stupid,” he said and looked down. “It’s not worth your time.”

Jason glowered at him. “So you’re shameless enough to hit on your so-called guardian angel but don’t want to tell me your wish, even though you summoned me all the way out there.” 

To Dick’s credit, he didn’t back down, lifting his head to stare at Jason defiantly. But between a high schooler and a multiverse-travelling vigilante over a hundred years, Dick was never going to win. His resolve crumbling, Dick mumbled “Fine” to himself and then repeated it louder. “Fine, you win! I turned 18 today so I’m legally able to leave my shitty situation if I don’t get the living daylights beaten out of me first. So I wished that I’d be free to leave and find my own place and figure out my future and maybe, if it’s not too much to ask for, be allowed to want happiness for myself - ” He stopped suddenly, his fists clenching in his lap. “Forget about it. I’m being stupid. You can’t make it happen anyways.” 

“I can,” Jason said and when Dick’s head snapped up, clarified, “Make it happen. I can. Give me a moment to figure it out.” He lowered himself to sit down on the bench next to Dick, who watched him carefully. Jason ignored Dick’s staring in favor of sorting through the potential paths he could secure for Dick that would result in his departure from Cobb’s custody in finding safety and shelter elsewhere. As much as he wanted to let Dick stay with him, he knew it’d be a bad idea; bringing Dick into the residence of a grim reaper, even if it was Damian, would only bring trouble and more than that, he knew that as much as he wanted to give Dick a home, Dick deserved a place he could claim for himself. 

Jason made a gamble. He’d honed his intuition enough over his time travelling through universes to trust in the outcomes of his choices. “Apply for a job at the comic book shop ‘Dungeons and Drakes.’ You’ll get the position; just be yourself during the interview. After you’re hired, ask Tim Drake, the owner, if he knows about housing in the area. Either him or Steph and Cass next door will have something for you. Move in as soon as you can. I’ll have taken care of Cobb by then so you can come back to pack your shit and leave without having to worry about him.”

“You’ll take care of him,” Dick repeated, before his eyes flicked up to meet Jason’s incredulously. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means,” Jason said, drawing out the word, “that you won’t ever have to be afraid of him hurting you because I’ll make sure he’ll never come near you ever again.” At Dick’s expression, he added, “If it makes you sleep better at night, I have a no-kill code I’ve sworn by, even in the case of a garbage person like Cobb. No promises that I’ll handle things legally, though.”

“That’s OK,” Dick said softly. “The law let me down anyways.”

So there did exist a world where Dick had given up on the justice system. Jason should’ve felt triumphant that even the Golden Boy couldn’t hold fast to his unwavering faith in the law but it felt like a hollow victory instead. Jason said instead, “Do you remember everything else I told you?”

“Dungeons and Drakes, ask Tim about housing, Steph and Cass will also be there, I can move in and take my things with me,” Dick recited. “And then … everything will be OK?”

“They’ll be better. It might take some more time for things to really feel all right.”

Dick looked up at Jason intently. “Thank you,” he said. “For making things better. For being here with me.” 

It was too much - the vivid blueness of Dick’s eyes, his misguided sincerity, his terrible unhesitating faith in Jason, as if he thought Jason was good. 

Jason looked away, his throat closing up. “It’s nothing,” he said, forcing the words out, and he could hear the frown in Dick’s voice when Dick replied, “It’s not nothing! Not to me, anyways.”

Dick tugged on his sleeve and with some reluctance, Jason turned back to him. 

“So what’s your real name, Mr. Angel? For when we next see each other.”

“Jason.”

“Jason,” Dick said, trying out the name. “Can I call you Jay for short?” 

The nickname flowed off Dick’s tongue smoothly, as if it had been meant to be spoken by him. Jason felt a pang, stamped it out with a terse “Do what you want.”

Unfazed, Dick tilted his head with a coy expression. “Well, aren’t you going to ask me for my name?”

“Richard John Grayson,” Jason said. It came out more steeped in emotion than he’d wanted it too but Dick hadn’t picked up on it thankfully, piping up instead, “I’m going to assume you know that because of guardian angel reasons, not because you’re a stalker. You know I go by Dick, right? If you don’t, don’t start making fun of me for it.”

“There’s plenty of other things I can make fun of you for, Dickie,” Jason replied and Dick laughed at that.

“So when will I see you again? Are you really going to watch over me from now on?” 

Christ, Dick sounded like he actually wanted to see him, without any guile or pretense in his voice - unlike the Dick Grayson he had grown up with, who performed so well he didn’t even realize he was doing it anymore, even though Jason had long seen through his act. 

But this world’s Dick was young, still bright and brave and beautiful in spite of everything, had a promising future ahead of him once his situation had been sorted out, would be better off without Jason once he’d done his part. Having resolved as much, Jason responded, “With any luck, if you don’t get into too much trouble, you won’t have to see me again.” 

A look of mischief crossed Dick’s face. “You know that only makes me want to get into more trouble, right?”

Jason scowled. “Don’t - “. But before he could finish his sentence, Dick waved a fork with a piece of cake at him. “Here! Some cake to thank you in advance for looking out for me.”

“No.”

Dick’s face fell and Jason heaved a sigh. Even in this world, he apparently wouldn’t be able to say no to Dick. He took Dick’s wrist gently, noting absently how slender it was against his hand, and guided the fork into his mouth. Unexpectedly, the cake tasted better than he thought it would, sweet and smooth.

“It’s good,” he said. Dick beamed at him and something twisted in his chest at the sight of Dick’s face lighting up in a real smile, radiant with unpolished joy. Jason let go of Dick’s wrist as he stood up. “I’ll be going, I’ve got a lot of shit to do.” 

He drew open a portal but before he could bring himself to step through, he stopped to look back at Dick.

“Dick.”

“Yeah?”

“Happy 18th birthday.”

Jason had only a few seconds to glimpse the elated surprise unfurling across Dick’s features before the portal pulled him through. 

He would replay the image long after they had parted ways.

________________________

Moments after Jason vanished, Dick rubbed a thumb against his wrist, the one that Jason had taken when he leaned in to take a bite of cake. He felt heat rise to his face at the memory of Jason’s gloved hand enclosing around his wrist, his grip firm but gentle. 

Out of all the things Dick had thought might happen on his eighteenth birthday, he had never anticipated meeting his guardian angel, if he could call Jason that. To be fair, Jason hadn’t directly denied it. If anything, he’d indulged Dick in this regard and many more by staying to talk to him.

It hadn’t been out of pity. Jason had known not to pull any punches, tossing out sardonic retorts in response to Dick’s chatter and pushing him to say more when he finished talking to fill the space between them and shut down in the silence.

Jason had been kind. Kind enough that when he’d noticed the cigarette burns on Dick’s arms, he hadn’t brought it up except to vow Will would never lay a hand on him ever again. Kind enough to offer Dick his time and company and the promise that things would be better without expecting anything in turn.

But Dick wanted to give him things. Good things, because Jason deserved them and because he was hurting. He could tell because Jason’s pretty turquoise eyes had a pained hardness to them, because Jason carried himself like he had borne a heavy weight on his shoulders for years Most of all, he could tell because -

“Fallen head over heels already, Grayson? You’re a romantic at heart, after all.” Dick whipped around to find the ghost of Barbara Gordon standing there, smirking at him. 

“Babs!” He meant for it to sound reprimanding but he couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face if he tried. “How long have you been watching?”

“Long enough.” She sat down to take Jason’s place and bumped shoulders with Dick. Having been born with the ability to see ghosts and touch them wasn’t always the most pleasant experience but for Babs alone, it was worth it. “You’ve lucked out with Tall, Dark, and Handsome here, huh? He seems like a decent person.”

“It felt almost too good to be true when he showed up at the perfect time,” Dick admitted. “He has some sort of magical ability, I can sense it. Is he human?” He hesitated. “Do you notice anything … different about him?”

Babs hummed. “More than human, I think. He’s got a powerful aura to him. I can at least tell you he’s not a ghost, though. So you’ll definitely have a chance with him.” Babs’s voice was measured at the last part, measured enough that when he looked over at her, she offered him a small smile, the same one she had given him when she had asked for the first and last time if he could do her a favor of passing the message to Jim Gordon to find happiness in continuing to live, that he could move on knowing his daughter was in a better place.

She had lied then as she lied now, as if it were easy. Dick felt his heart clench. He wrapped his arms around her, rested his head on top of hers. “I love you as you are, Babs. Nothing will ever change that.” 

She pressed closer to him. “I know, Dick,” she said quietly. “You’re the only fool who would.”

They stayed like that for a moment longer, Babs resting her head to listen to his heartbeat as he carded his fingers through her hair. Finally Babs pulled away, flicking his forehead.

“Finish your cake before the squirrels do, birthday boy,” she said and laughed when Dick shoved a mouthful of cake into his mouth, his cheeks bulging outwards.

When he had finished the cake, they walked back together to Will’s house. When Babs had first befriended him, she’d been furious - furious to learn of how Will treated him, furious that as a ghost she couldn’t do anything about it. The least she could do, she told him, was walk him home every day so Dick would know he was not alone in this. And she’d told him too that if she couldn’t do anything, somebody could; that as the daughter of a police commissioner, she knew good cops who could do something, stop Will from hurting him anymore, as long as they could just find the right evidence.

Evidence that seemed scarce in the face of Cobb’s magnetic presence that had stymied social workers and law enforcement alike over the years with his sincere assertions that family was the most important thing to him. Which was how he was like around Dick most of the time, attentive in how he listened to Dick talk about his day and asked all the right questions at the dinner table, earnest in how he praised Dick and promised that Dick’s happiness was his priority. To Dick, it had seemed like an affectionate love interrupted by bursts of cold, leering brutality. In the time he had lived with Will, Dick had managed to convince himself that Will meant well, that he did care even if he had … issues, that he could tolerate his situation as long as he could leave soon. And then when senior year had started, he began tentatively voicing the thought that he might want to go to college and Will responded that he wouldn’t stand for it, that family was meant to stay together. _Don’t go somewhere I can’t follow_ he’d said as he marked Dick, marks he made sure would be inconspicuous enough to be explained away, where only Dick would know what they meant. _And if I leave?_ Dick snarled, trying to twist out of Will’s iron grip. Will had smiled at him, then, said, _I’ll hunt you down and break your bones so you won’t be able to ever again_.

After he’d told Babs as much, trying to omit as many upsetting details as he could, she’d been silent and still for a moment before telling him, in a voice trembling with rage, that she wanted to kill Will so he would never touch Dick ever again. “I don’t want him to be dead,” Dick had told her as he found it in himself to be true. “I just want to be free of him.”

And then Jason had come into his life before he could consider making a break for it and running away from Will who would be in pursuit until either one of them died. Jason had promised things would be better. And he trusted Jason, enough to want to knock on Tim Drake’s door the next day in search of the freedom he promised. He trusted Jason with his life even though they’d met only an hour ago, even though he should’ve given up on trusting anyone else because of Will.

“Babs,” he said as they neared Will’s apartment. “Do you trust Jason?”

“Yes,” she replied without batting an eye. “I can tell he’s good. And he’s powerful. He’ll be able to pull off what he said he would.”

“I trust you.” And though everything else was uncertain, he knew this to be true without a doubt. 

Babs wordlessly wrapped him in a hug. They stood there for a moment, Dick soaking in the comfort of her pressed to him. After a moment, she stepped back to press a kiss to his cheek. 

“Happy birthday, Boy Wonder. Here’s to your newfound freedom.” 

She mimed toasting him with a glass of wine and he echoed the gesture, though he replied with a laugh, “I don’t think I’m of age to be able to do that yet.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell my dad.” She smiled, though it faded shortly. “I’ll be watching over you. Hang in there for just a little longer.” At Dick’s nod, she vanished. 

For another moment, Dick stood by himself on the sidewalk, took a breath to rally himself. Just one more night of this. 

A sudden thought occurred to him. He’d forgotten to ask Babs one thing. If she had seen Jason the way he had. If she had seen the blazing green sword buried in his chest. If she knew what it meant. 

He’d find out, sooner or later. Just one more night of this and things would be better.


	2. freefall: a leap of faith

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> zadie smith once wrote that the simple pleasure of a pineapple popsicle was enough to soften even the hardest days. i've found recently that my equivalent of the pineapple popsicle has been the prospect of working on this fic at the end of a difficult day. this is all to say, especially during this time, i really do appreciate the sanctuary that fandom offers and i hope my work can continue to bring you as much satisfaction as it does for me in writing it :) 
> 
> a quick logistical note -  
> i've updated the fic with a more accurate estimate of chapters, a more complete set of tags, and more consistent formatting.  
> that being said, i still want to commit to including individual content warnings for every chapter.  
>  **content warnings for this chapter include canon-typical portrayals of violence and death of characters, some of whom are minors. ******

Before his parents fell, people had assumed Dick rarely felt fear. And it was true in the sense that there was no room for fear where Dick fit himself in the strength of his mother’s arms pulled taut to swing him upwards to meet the grounding grip of his father in a circle of motion that never broke, only flowed through him to lift him through the air where he would become untouchable, infinite if only for a moment. 

But still, at the start of every show, Dick would still feel his throat tighten with nerves, his hands growing slick with sweat as he craned his head to soak in the roar of the crowd, and felt the weight of their eyes on him, heavy with an anticipation that demanded him to be worth their while. 

Then his father’s hand would land on his shoulder, his mother’s fingertips brushing against his back, and he would raise his head, lifted up by their touch. His mother had taught him one day about how hawks fly, spreading their wings to catch updrafts to carry them higher and higher, and he’d thought she was the wind, his father too, free and unending.

And then he’d watched them plummet downwards, their limber bodies crumpling below, and in their absence, there was no longer fear because the worst had happened already.

In due time, William Cobb would re-instill fear in him but it couldn’t compare to watching the wind die, his parents’ bodies spilling red onto the ground below. It could never.

So when Dick jolted awake in bed, chest heaving with shallow breaths, it took him a moment to realize the tightness in his chest meant the reappearance of nerves he hadn’t felt in years at the thought today would be the day things finally changed. He closed his eyes. Jason had promised him things would be better from here on out and he wanted to believe again, that someone like Jason would catch him if he were to take a leap of faith again.

Dick gripped his own shoulder. 

_It’ll be over before you know it_ , his dad had said to him, his eyes crinkling. _Enjoy the moment while it lasts, son._

“It’ll be over before you know it,” Dick said to himself now. As long as he could sit through a day of school, it would be fine. 

It was not fine.

And to think that Babs had once said he would’ve fit into Gotham City High School like a fish in water, would’ve been popular even. He’d burst out laughing at that and she’d let out a huff.

“I’m being serious, Grayson! You’re kind. Smart. Handsome. Athletic.” She ticked off her fingers as she spoke and Dick had to grab her hand at the rush of affection flooding through him even as he replied, “Orphan. Foreign. A year behind because of an unconventional education at the circus. Can see - uh...”

“Can see ghosts?’” Babs finished his sentence, a smile tugging at her lips.

Flushing, Dick had scrambled to add, “It’s not that bad of a thing now! I was able to meet you after all.” 

“Grayson, you _charmer_ ,” she’d replied with a laugh.

Dick wished very much he had Babs with him now, even as his fingers drummed against his legs under his desk, his eyes flitting to check the clock above the door, willing time to move faster. 

It was only in fourth period that someone picked up on his nerves, Ms. Bertinelli gently thwapping him on the back of his head with a copy of _The Stranger_. “Grayson, stay behind for a bit?” she asked, as if he had a say in the matter. 

At least he could skip Calculus next period without catching any flak for it; none of the other teachers dared to challenge Ms. Bertinelli when she had made her mind up.

As soon as the rest of the class had filed on, she hopped onto a desk to level a flinty gaze at Dick through her horn rimmed glasses.

Dick swallowed. “Uh, I didn’t fail the last paper, did I? I thought I understood _Antigone_ pretty well.”

“No, you did just fine,” she replied breezily. Your feminist take on Antigone’s defiance was refreshing, actually. What I’m more concerned about is what could possibly be going through your head right now. You’re nervous enough to make _me_ nervous and I’m never nervous.”

“Never?” Dick blurted out.

“Never when it counts,” Ms. Bertinelli replied with a coy smile. Her smile dimmed, though, as she studied Dick carefully for a moment, enough to make him squirm.

“How are you _really_ doing, Dick?”

It was a question she’d asked him a number of times but he still found himself caught off guard by it, by how he felt compelled to answer honestly. Maybe because he knew there was no escaping Ms. Bertinelli’s scrutiny so that even if he lied every time, smile pulled taut and heart hammering in his chest at the thought of what would await him at home the moment he tried to tell the truth, she had known - enough not to further press the issue. Instead, she had let him stay after school so he could fill out college applications on one of the classroom computers and sat with him to read over his essays, rattling off a list of revisions for him to follow through with in a steely voice that would only soften when she told him to stay safe going home. 

But if Jason’s promise came true, he’d no longer have to lie to Ms. Bertinelli and walk the only tightrope he’d ever hated of hiding his home life from her. He could tell her he was all right and it would be the truth, or close to it. 

So when Dick gave her a smile, it felt more real than it ever had. “Things are going to get better, I think.”

He expected her to raise a pencil-thin eyebrow but instead, she only gave him a nod. “That’s good to hear, Dick. Better how?”

“Oh, uh, I’m going to have a job interview today,” Dick replied. Trying to quash the uncertainty in his voice, he cleared his throat and added, “I have a feeling it’s going to work out. That good things are coming, you know?”

Ms. Bertinelli smiled at him. “I believe it and that you’re due your fair share of happiness, Mr. Grayson.” She inclined her head at him. “Is this a part-time position or are you looking to work full-time past graduation?”

“Just part-time,” he answered. “Don’t worry, I’m definitely going to go through with applying to Gotham U and everywhere else. Especially after all the hard work you put into fixing all my essays.” 

“After all the hard work _you_ put into writing your essays and undergoing the application process, you mean,” Ms. Bertinelli corrected. She clapped his shoulder with surprising strength, enough to make him duck his head with a wince. When he looked up, he met her warm eyes. “Good, I know I won’t have to worry much. You’re free to go to your next period.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur of the shuffle of teachers rapping out instructions and students thronging through hallways. Things only started to feel real to Dick again when he found himself outside the school doors after the last school bell had rung, blinking in the sunlight, his mouth suddenly dry with anticipation.

He licked his lips. “Dungeons and Drakes, Tim, housing,” he recited to himself as he began walking. Briefly the thought crossed his mind that Jason was watching him from somewhere before Dick shook his head ruefully. Just because he’d teased that Jason was his guardian angel didn’t mean Jason was spending every one of his waking moments checking in on Dick. The guy had better things to do than that.

Right, Dick wasn’t special; Jason was just being nice. And yet, a part of him clung insistently to the memory of how carefully Jason’s hand had closed around his wrist to take a bite of cake, of how Jason’s expression had softened when he had looked back at Dick to tell him happy birthday. Jason was beautiful and his almost-smile had made him even more so, 

The problem was, if Dick wasn’t special, Jason had made him feel that way. Dick’s grip tightened on his backpack. Would Jason still stick around after this was all over? 

The sound of loud voices interrupted Dick’s train of thought. Dick looked over to see a pair of teenagers chatting animatedly as they strode past him. One of them, a girl with blue-streaked hair slicked back into a mohawk, elbowed the boy with dark hair with a laugh. “You better not tell me you forgot the dice back at home, Cullen, you _know_ the store’s dice are rigged; we’re gonna be rolling nat ones the whole session.” She and the boy walked inside, leaving Dick outside staring at the bright glossy spreads showcased in the display windows.

He was here. 

Swallowing back his nervousness, he pulled on the door as well, noting briefly the cheerful “Help Wanted!” sign posted to the glass, before stepping inside. 

Inside was a brilliant explosion of color that had been impressively arranged into a bordering close to organized format. Dick only had time to take in the shelves of assorted comic books, racks of figurines and DVDs, and the row of arcade machines before his attention was drawn to the tables by the left, where a group of people were 

Then a voice spoke up in front of him.

“Is there anything I can help you with?”

Dick turned to see a man with dark hair about his height, his sharp eyes regarding him behind thick-framed glasses. The sleeves of his button up had been rolled up to reveal unexpected swirls of ink on his pale forearms.

Dick dragged his gaze away from the man’s tattoos. This must be Tim. “Y-yeah! It, um, said on the sign you were looking for part-time help. I was wondering how to apply.” 

A blond head popped up from behind the front counter. “Oh, what a cutie pie!” 

Tim - if that was his name - directed a stern gaze towards the woman. “If you scare off my potential employee, Steph, you’re going to be personally responsible for hiring his replacement.”

“He … doesn’t seem like the type to scare easily,” a second voice said. A dark-haired woman pulled up a stool to sit next to Steph, watching him attentively. _Cass_ , Dick remembered. Jason had mentioned a Steph and Cass would be here in addition to Tim.

They all seemed nice. Jason had made sure everything was in place, after all. Dick couldn’t afford to fail here. He mustered a smile. “I’m good! It’s nice that there’s such positive energy to this place.”

“An optimistic attitude, you’re off to a good start already,” Steph noted, winking at him.

Tim clicked his tongue. “Who’s the one who owns this establishment and is in charge of new hires?”

Steph only raised her hands in surrender and Tim let out a sigh as he turned to Dick. “My apologies, I haven’t even asked for your name. You are…?”

“Dick. Dick Grayson.”

Tim was studying him carefully, his eyes glinting with interest. “Grayson,” he repeated. “It might just be a coincidence but would this be the same Grayson as the ‘Flying Graysons’?” 

Dick froze, heart twisting in his chest. It had been far too long since anyone else had remembered his family, enough to speak their family name out loud. It had also been far too long since he had reclaimed his family’s legacy with the pride and joy it deserved.

He flexed his hands by his side now, swallowed. “Yes,” he said and raised his head high. If he tried, he could almost imagine the pads of his mother’s fingers brushing against his back, lifting him up. “I was John and Mary’s son.”

Tim smiled. “It’s an honor to have you in this shop.” He gestured to the wall behind the store counter and Dick’s eyes followed his movement, to where a familiar red and golden poster hung above Cass’s head.

“ _Oh_ ,” Dick breathed and he moved toward it without thinking, like a magnetic force was drawing him in. Wordlessly, Cass shifted to make way for Dick and he gave her a shaky smile in gratitude before refocusing his gaze on the poster where the smiling figures of his parents soared in still motion. His eight year old self was smiling too, flashing a grin towards the invisible audience. 

_He should have been looking at his parents, not them,_ Dick thought to himself, pressing his fingers to the poster. A moment later, realizing he was smearing his grubby handprints all over his employer’s merchandise, he jerked his hand back, apology on his lips.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s your poster more than it’s mine,” Tim said from behind him, shooting him a wry knowing look.

Dick swallowed down the apology. “How do you have this poster, if you don’t mind me asking?” This version had been a limited edition, sold only during the week of shows during -

“Haly Circus’s ten year anniversary,” Tim confirmed. “I attended your show then. It was -” he paused, revisiting the memory. “Magical would have to be the word for it, I think. It helped me during a really difficult time in my life.” He looked at Dick, gaze sincere. “I’m sorry about your parents. I hope they’re resting well.”

Dick felt his mouth wobble but it was much easier to smile at Tim this time around, a real smile, not the pasted-on version. 

“It’s a small world, huh?” Steph spoke up, beaming. “I guess this means it’s fate you’re meant to work here.”

“Well, we still have to follow procedure in interviewing him to see if he’s suitable for the job,” Tim added. “We want to be fair about this and I’m sure he’d appreciate as well not being shown favoritism.”

Steph only rolled her eyes while Cass pulled up two more chairs for Tim and Dick. Her eyes were warm as she gestured for Dick to sit.

As Dick took his seat, Tim inclined his head. “That being said, it looks like Steph and Cass both have a soft spot for you already so things look promising for you. I realize none of us have introduced ourselves properly so it’s about time I start.” He extended a hand to Dick. “I’m Tim Drake, the owner of this shop.”  
“It’s nice to meet you, Tim.” Dick shook his hand, noting the firmness of Tim’s grip in spite of his seemingly slender hands.

Then they talked. Enough so that Dick felt at ease around Tim’s wry methodical approach to asking questions, Steph’s bright and colorful remarks, and Cass’s quiet and grounding presence, realizing more and more he wanted to work here if it meant working with them. 

Thirty minutes in, Tim set down his clipboard and said simply, “You’re hired.”

Dick stared at him, dumbfounded.

“You’re hired,” Tim repeated. “You’re capable and have no problem talking to all kinds of people, including these two who have in fact scared off customers -” here, he ignored Steph’s indignant “Hey!” and Cass’s snort - “and you can adapt well to changing circumstances. And Steph, Cass, and I can all tell you’re a good kid. So there’s no doubt in my mind that you’re set to become our newest employee. Congratulations, Dick.”

It had been a while since Dick had smiled so much his face hurt but here he was, incredulous grin stretching from ear to ear, enough so he had to clap his hands to his face to soften the ache. He did it again to confirm this was real and he wasn’t dreaming, to the amusement of Tim, Steph, and Cass all watching him. “Sorry,” he said with a laugh. “It just feels too good to be true, you know?”

“Don’t be sorry,” Tim replied before Steph pushed him out the way to whisper conspiratorially to Dick, “You’ll eat your words in a few months, Grayson, working with Tim means you’ll have to deal with his anal work ethic, day in and day out. If you ever need a break, come hang out with me and Cass in the next store over, we’re way cooler.” Tim shoved her back with an annoyed huff.

In the midst of the chaos, Cass patted Dick’s shoulder companionably. “Welcome home,” she said.

“Thanks,” Dick said and smiled up at her before remembering the second half of the mission Jason had given him: finding housing. “On that note, I was actually wondering if any of you guys knew anything about available housing in the area?”

Steph and Tim had stopped squabbling to watch his and Cass’s exchange with interest. Dick squirmed under their scrutiny but looking back at Cass’s expression told him she understood.

“You’re in luck, Dick,” Steph piped up. “Cass and I live together but our third roommate Kara moved out to Metropolis a few weeks ago so we’ve been looking for someone to fill her spot ever since. That is, if you don’t have a problem living with girls.”

“None at all!” Dick blurted out. “I’d really appreciate it if you and Cass would have me. What would the rent look like?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Steph said and shot Dick a stern look when he opened his mouth to protest.

Dick tried to plow onwards anyway. “I couldn’t possibly impose on you both. I promise I can take care of things on my end, especially since you guys have been good enough to offer me both a job and a new place to live. I want to repay all the kindness -” 

“I mean it, Grayson,” Steph interrupted. “As a high-schooler moving out from home for the first time, you’re definitely not going to have enough extra cash lying around to cough up rent right now. You can pitch in once you work enough hours and save up enough to help out, all right?” 

. At a loss, Dick turned to Tim and Cass in an attempt to earn a sympathetic ally on his side.

Tim only folded his arms. “Steph’s right,” he said before proceeding to sigh at Steph’s fist pump of victory next to him. “I know it goes to her head whenever I say it so you’ll have to trust that I’m not saying it lightly now. Steph and Cass as employed adults are in a good enough place to cover the entire apartment rent for a month or two before you begin contributing your share.”

“Steph and Tim said many things,” said Cass. “What they mean .. is that you can rely on us. Adults.” 

Dick looked at them, a lump growing in his throat. It felt nice to have so many people looking out for him. He hadn’t known it would feel this nice. “Thanks, guys,” he said, swallowing down the lump. “It means a lot to me. More than you could ever know.” 

________________________

In no uncertain terms was Dick Grayson to ever meet William Cobb again. Jason would make damn sure of that.

From the rooftop of the apartment across the street, Jason put down his binoculars. Just like clockwork, Cobb was home now, which meant Jason had only two hours to take care of him before Dick began heading home. 

Jason slipped on his helmet. That was more than enough time. 

It certainly helped that as the Knight of Gotham, he could teleport places instead of having to go through all the work of infiltrating a target. It took only a snap of the fingers and a blazing blue-green portal to open up for Jason to step into the darkness of Cobb’s kitchen where the man was currently seated motionless at the table, staring blankly into the distance.

“William Cobb,” he said and the man looked up.

In another universe, Jason had confronted a William Cobb with gleaming claws and knives, who’d hissed at him _Knight of Gotham, the Court of Owls has sentenced you to die_ with glittering golden eyes. This universe’s William Cobb, while not a Talon, had the same cold look to his eyes as he met Jason’s gaze.

“It’s polite to enter through the door, you know,” Cobb said, rising to his feet. “But then again, it’s always been easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, hasn’t it?”

“I’m not the one who needs to be asking for forgiveness,” Jason retorted. “You know what you’ve done. Enough not to be caught off guard by a stranger breaking and entering in your place demanding to see you.”

“What did you do with the boy?” Still as Cobb was, Jason could read the tension in his body. The man knew enough to stall for time and would most likely seize the next chance he had to dive for the knife rack on the counter to his right. 

“It’s not your business anymore. You’ll never have the chance to see him again, let alone lay a hand on him like you’ve been doing for the past five years.”

Cobb’s eyes flashed at that. “He’s _mine_ ,” he snarled, slamming a hand on the counter. “No one - fucking no one - else can have him but me!” 

He lunged for the knife rack, yanking out the largest one to charge at Jason with. 

Jason grabbed Cobb’s wrist, hard enough to see his expression twist in pain even under the dim lighting. “No, you sick bastard,” Jason said quietly. “He belongs to no one but himself. And if you know what’s best for you, you’ll turn yourself in and spend the rest of your life taking responsibility for what you did to him.”

Cobb snarled at him and wrenched out of his grip, the knife falling from his hand with a clatter. He jerked open the next kitchen drawer to pull out a revolver and pointed it at Jason.

“Go to hell,” he said and fired. 

The thing about becoming the Knight of Gotham, Jason thought as he watched the bullet exit the barrel of the gun, was that fighting was nowhere near as difficult as it used to be after acquiring the ability to teleport and a hundred additional years of combat experience in too many universes to count. The downside to it all was that fighting - at least against normal humans - had lost all its thrill. But the upside?

The upside was disappearing from sight and reappearing behind Cobb to see his look of sheer horror as he whirled around to face Jason.

“That’s my line,” Jason said and when Cobb stared at him in incomprehension, he repeated, “Go to hell,” and grinned, baring his teeth.

Then he slammed Cobb against the wall, his fingers closing around the man’s throat, and squeezed. Cobb dropped the revolver.

“You should know,” Jason said conversationally as his fingers tightened and Cobb writhed. “That I could’ve knocked you out in a more efficient way but I decided in favor of this more painful option. And even then, this pain still can’t compare to the years of hell you put Dick through.” 

Cobb, eyes bulging and mouth quivering, did not reply. 

“Dick’s a good person,” Jason continued. “He didn’t want you to die. He probably wouldn’t even like that I’m hurting you like this. So --” he let go and Cobb slid to the ground.

“So I have to settle for keeping you out of the picture with a prison sentence,” he said to Cobb’s unconscious body. “And making sure he never has contact with you.”

He walked out of the kitchen, kicking aside the discarded revolver, in search of Cobb’s bedroom. The first door he checked turned out to be Dick’s and his mouth ticked upwards when he saw a worn Zitka stuffed animal tucked under the covers. He allowed his eyes to briefly sweep across the room, noting the room was bare except for a family photo on the bedside drawer. Jason closed his eyes as he thought back to his original universe where he’d had to step over empty takeout containers and stacks of case files just to make it to Dick’s bed. He almost missed the mess now and what it meant that Dick in this universe had yet to claim a space as his own.

Jason shut the door and opened the next one. Sure enough, it was Cobb’s bedroom, strategically located next to Dick’s. If the walls were thin enough, which Jason was willing to bet they were, Cobb would’ve been able to monitor any and all sounds coming out of Dick’s room.

Jason grit his teeth and pushed the door open to approach the innocuous-looking laptop on Cobb’s desk. Pulling up the desk chair, he began cracking into the contents of the computer only to stop a few minutes in.

Jason stared at the screen. 

“For fuck’s sake,” he said and resisted the urge to destroy anything else in the room as the words _Court of Owls_ leered back at him.

While this universe’s Court of Owls wasn’t the ancient murderous organization pulling strings to plot Gotham’s fate, it had still maintained a bloodstained existence in this world as a sinister religious cult with dark practices. For one, as worshippers of Barbatos, the Court of Owls was fixated on the idea of bringing their deity “fresh blood” - young vessels who would offer their faith and bodies to the bat god. Namely, children from Gotham’s streets without homes who would gladly accept food, shelter, and safety without realizing what their fosterers would ask of them.

William Cobb, as one of the founding leaders of this cult, had recently announced to the cult’s followers he was elated to soon introduce to them the Gray Son of Gotham, with the same blood flowing through his veins who would faithfully serve the Court to the very end.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he muttered under his breath as he plugged in the USB to begin downloading all of Cobb’s files. He’d have his work cut out for him in tracking down the rest of the Court after making sure Dick was safe. 

Once all the downloads had finished and he’d tucked the USB in his jacket pocket, Jason called the GCPD.

“I’d like to report the existence of a religious cult responsible for child trafficking,” Jason replied and the startled silence on the other end was enough of an indicator to keep talking. “And it’s only the tip of the iceberg but the address I’m calling from is a good place to start. Don’t worry, I took care of the guy in question for you but you’re gonna want to take a look at what he’s got on his computer.” He hung up. 

Then he slipped out of Cobb’s windowsill to seat himself on the roof and waited. 

Fifteen minutes later, he heard the sounds of heavy footfalls, the crackling of police radios and hushed conversation. The sounds became noticeably clearer as Cobb’s laptop and its contents were discovered, a young distressed male voice swearing up a storm before Jim Gordon’s familiar voice cut in. 

“Get a hold of yourself, Nick - we can get to the bottom of this once we’ve sorted through all the intel here. Give me a few minutes, will you? Circle back to arrest Cobb and pass on the word to the others, we’ll debrief in a bit once I’ve finished checking over everything in this room.” There was the sound of shuffling footsteps before Jim cleared his throat. “I know you’re there. You might as well come out now if you intend to develop a partnership with us for the future.” 

Jason swung in, landing in the room silently. “Hey Commish.”

Jim looked up, his features weary. One of the constants in the multiverse, it seemed, was that every version of Jim Gordon was overworked and overdue for retirement. But even as Jason towered over him, Jim only folded his arms, unimpressed. “Only people who’ve worked with me for years get to call me that, you know.” 

“Well, we might’ve been colleagues in a different life.” 

“Don’t get smart with me now, kid.” But Jim’s mouth under his mustache quirked up for a moment. He studied Jason for a moment. “So what, you’re new in town and hoping to strike it out as a vigilante? I’m going to have to break the bad news to you that Birds of Prey isn’t accepting applications, especially not from a guy like you if I’m judging correctly.”

“You are. I’m hoping to make my own name here.”

“Which is?”

“The Gotham Knight.” As Jason had traveled through the multiverse, he’d found more and more that the worlds he appeared in were beginning to recount stories of Gotham’s guardian who would protect the city until the end of time, ranging from moderately true to wildly inaccurate. This world had somehow heard of him too, by the surprise on Jim’s face as he replied, “That’s a big name to live up to. But I respect that you’ve got the guts to take on this kind of legacy. Looking forward to working with you, Knight.” They shook hands. 

Jim offered him a wry smile. “So in the spirit of our new partnership and pooling together our resources, you know anything about the boy who lives here?”

“Dick’s legally an adult now. He turned 18 yesterday,” Jason replied automatically and then mentally kicked himself at how suspicious it was to offer up this information readily when Jim raised an eyebrow. “Uh, what I meant is that Dick’s independent now. I gave him a heads up I’d be handling his guardian and that he should figure out how to strike out on his own.He’s got his own place. Good people looking out for him too.”

“Good.” Jim paused, his expression thoughtful. “Do you believe in ghosts?” 

“Yeah,” Jason replied without hesitation. For all the times he’d died and been brought to life in a way that strayed further and further from humanity, his existence meant he had a connection with the dead than the living. He could guess where the conversation was headed. He’d been thinking about looking for her too -

“Barbara Gordon. My late daughter,” Jim said and then looked down. Jason waited in silence as he watched the commissioner’s shoulders sink under the weight of his grief. A very long time ago, he had wanted Bruce to mourn for him the same way, only to scrap the desire completely after seeing Bruce’s broad frame buckle with grief over Damian’s body. 

When Jim looked up, his expression was raw. “I thought after her death, she would just be ...gone. But a year ago, Dick delivered a message to me from her. He said he could see ghosts. I would’ve thought it was bullshit but as soon as I heard the message, I knew it was her. I knew it.” 

Even in this universe, Dick and Babs had found each other. The knot inside Jason’s chest, back from when he first learned the Joker had murdered Babs, loosened. “If Dick delivered her message, they must’ve become friends. Ba - your daughter. She must be doing well if she’s got Dick looking out for her. He’s a good person.” It was the second time Jason had said it in half an hour; he wasn’t even sure if he’d said it as much in his original timeline. “I’m going to make sure he’s all right. He’ll be returning soon. Does he have to cross any yellow tape?”

“I’ll cordon off Cobb’s room only and post an officer by the door to let Dick in,” Jim replied. He gave Jason a nod. “Thank you for keeping an eye out for him.”

Then, with a sweep of his trench coat, Jim left. Jason listened for the sound of his ordering the officers out before he moved out Cobb’s bedroom and into Dick’s room next door. 

Snagging a notebook from Dick’s desk, he tore off a page to scribble a note. He couldn’t afford to stick around and risk Dick becoming any more attached to him than he already was but he didn’t want to leave him hanging either. 

After some thought and double-checking the syllable count, he printed out: 

_Kicked Cobb’s ass for you_

_I told you things would work out_

_You’re a free bird now._

_-J.T_

Jason left the note and readied himself to make a quick exit. He _should_ leave; there was nothing left to do here.

A moment later, Jason found himself back on the rooftop with the excuse he would stay only to make sure Dick was really fine and didn’t need his help anymore. With a sigh, he took off his helmet and shook loose a cigarette from the pack in his jacket pocket to light up, letting his legs dangle off the side. This time would be a longer wait so he might as well make himself comfortable. 

Around an hour later, he picked up the sound of a person moving in the apartment below, their footsteps lighter than any of the officers who had entered. Jason stubbed out the cigarette, just as a burst of delighted laughter rang from the window; Dick must’ve discovered the note. 

An aching warmth flared in Jason’s chest at the thought he could’ve made Dick laugh like that. He’d missed it, how Dick’s laughter filled the air in swells of bright joy. How long ago had he last made Dick laugh? Five, six universes ago?

And that version of Dick hadn’t been his Dick. None of them had truly been, not when Jason would never belong in any of their lives or worlds. 

Jason’s chest tightened. This was why he had to keep a distance. Drawing closer meant deluding himself into thinking he could make Dick happy as long as he stayed by Dick’s side when there would never be any guarantee of how much time he had in this world. 

Anyways the last thing Dick needed was Jason around, especially when the kid was looking to build himself a new, happy, and stable life. 

Dick’s voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts. “Hey, you’re still here, right, Jay?” 

Jason watched Dick haul himself onto the windowsill, craning his neck to scan his surroundings. Fortunately, even if he looked up, he wouldn’t be able to detect Jason, positioned on the side of the roof cast in shadow.

“I know you are! Since you’re a guardian angel.” Jason swiped a hand across his face. Dick’s voice had no business sounding this hopeful, not when Jason was going to let him down inevitably. “But you’re probably hiding somewhere since you’ve got a Tough Guy image to uphold. That’s cool. I liked your haiku by the way. It was funny. And...” 

Dick’s voice trailed off. When Jason leaned in closer, he saw Dick fidget for a moment before he took a breath and sat up straighter. “Listen. I just wanted to thank you. For fulfilling your promise. Everything’s changed for the better. I have a job and a new place and I’m free of Will. And I have hope again, you know? You gave me that. And I keep thinking how I’m never going to pay it back. But I want to try. So don’t disappear on me. Or else I really will get into trouble just to make you come after me.”

Dick fell silent, ducking his head to stare at his lap. Very faintly, Jason heard him mumble under his breath, “Maybe he’s not here after all and I just sound super dumb.”

Jason drummed his fingers. He knew far too well what it was like to offer a prayer and have it go unheard. 

Looking around, he found a row of potted marigolds a few feet away from him. Mentally apologizing to the gardener, he snapped one blossom from its stalk and dropped it from the rooftop, watching the flower fall in Dick’s hair before Dick reached up to inspect its brilliant orange petals.

Dick froze for a moment before a delighted grin crossed his face. “Jay!”

He looked up but he wouldn’t find Jason there; Jason had teleported five roofs away, tripping over his feet in haste in the process and slamming to the ground.

“Fuck,” Jason said and pressed his forehead to the roof. 

________________________

Among the many skills circus life had taught Dick, packing in a matter of minutes while on tour had been one of them. He had laughed sheepishly at Steph’s incredulous expression when he had showed up to the apartment with only two boxes but after convincing her that yes, this is all he had, no, he wasn’t secretly hiding more of his stuff in the hallway because he was too shy to ask for her help in moving in though, cross his heart or hope to die, he was able to settle into his new room in the apartment with little ado. Fortunately, the room was already furnished so it took him only a moment to lay Zitka on the pillow, put the beaming photo of Mom and Dad on the desk, and place the flower Jason had given him on the windowsill.

Dick brushed a finger against its velvety petals and smiled in spite of himself, that Jason would give him something so soft and beautiful. He wanted to give Jason something nice too the next time they met.

Having finished unpacking, Dick stepped out of his bedroom to look for Steph and thank her anyways for welcoming him to the apartment only to find Cass in the kitchen, perched on a chair and sipping from a steaming purple mug. 

He pulled up a chair across from her and offered her a shy smile. “Thanks for having me here again. I really appreciate it. I promise I won’t cause you or Steph too much trouble while I’m here.”

Cass’s eyes crinkled at him. “I know. Steph and I can tell. You are…” She paused, hunting for the right words. “Good people,” she said at last with a decisive nod. “Is what Steph would say.”

Dick ducked his head. He wasn’t used to this many good things happening or this many people being nice to him. He’d have to adjust. “I’m really lucky to have found you guys when I did. Otherwise I’d have nowhere to go for the night.”

Cass studied him over the rim of her mug. “Was it luck?” she said. “You coming to us?”

“More than just luck,” Dick replied before fidgeting at the raise of Cass’s eyebrow. “ But the truth’s a little crazy. I don’t know if you’d believe me if I told you.”

“Try me,” Cass said. “Steph says I am a good listener.” She looked at him steadily, her dark eyes clear of any reservations.

It was the same look she had directed at him when he’d asked her about housing, like she understood or sensed how things must have been for him. It was a look that had given him the courage not to drop the question then and now inspired him to clear his throat and say, “It was my eighteenth birthday a few days ago. I made a wish to leave home and rebuild a life for myself and this man appeared out of nowhere and said he’d make it all happen if I did everything he said. Like applying for a job with Tim.” Dick swallowed. “Uh, I realize it doesn’t sound great to literally trust a random stranger with my life but I really thought he was a guardian angel or something since he showed up at the perfect moment to grant my wish. That sounds even dumber, now that I think about it, but I promise he’s a good guy, even if he acts cool and tough -” 

Cass laid a hand on top of his before he could ramble further. “I believe you,” she said, her lips quirking up when Dick blurted, “Really?”

“Yes,” she replied. “I don’t believe in...coincidences.” She articulated the last word carefully, pronouncing every syllable. “Fate brings us together.” She cocked her head at Dick. “What did this man look like, your angel?”

“Well, he didn’t have a halo or wings. He looked pretty normal actually, like a typical biker since he had scars and a leather jacket and combat boots. But he. Uh.” Dick let out a nervous laugh. He was in too deep now to be holding back on details. “Also had a glowing green sword sticking out of his chest?” 

A sword that Babs hadn’t mentioned when he asked her if she’d noticed anything different about Jason. A sign he must have been seeing things even beyond the grasp of ghosts. And possibly the reason Cass was going to think he was crazy and consider how to ask him to leave before he could cause any more problems for her and Steph.

He was expecting at least a tiny bit of shock or skepticism but Cass’s eyes were bright with interest instead. “You met him. The Knight of Gotham.”

“The Knight? Oh wow, what a cool name!” Dick blurted instinctively before attempting to rein in his excitement in front of an amused Cass. “Uh, I mean. How do you know him? Why’s he called the Knight?”

“I do not know him but legend says there is a man who travels through different...worlds. Universes. He protects Gotham in each one so he is the Knight. And he is known by the sword in his chest.” She paused, regarding him carefully. “Knight is a heavy title. It takes someone strong to hold it.”

Dick brushed a thumb against his wrist. Jason had told him everything was going to be all right, even with the jagged scar slicing down the right side of his face, the shadows flitting across his features, the sword jutting out of his chest. “Yeah,” Dick replied softly. “He is strong.” He tapped a finger against his chest. “Why does he have a sword here?”

“There are stories. That the Knight was stabbed with the sword and cursed to wander eternally until his bride frees him from the curse.”

“Bride,” Dick repeated.

“Yes, bride. The one human being who can see the sword.”

There was no way. Except he had seen the sword and Babs hadn’t. And if that meant he was the bride, he could help Jason. 

Dick ducked his head, blushing in spite of himself. Jason’s _bride_. That would mean he was special to Jason. That he could make Jason happy. Jason would smile for him, soft and crooked the way he did when he wished Dick a happy birthday. He would smile as he kissed Dick, his big strong hands cradling Dick’s face as Dick wrapped his arms around Jason’s neck, fingers brushing against his nape, curling in his dark hair - 

“Why?” Cass asked, bringing Dick’s runaway imagination to a shrieking halt. 

Dick swallowed hard, his mouth dry. “N-no reason,” he mumbled. He shifted in his chair. 

“Hm,” was all Cass said as she took another sip from her mug. 

Dick cleared his throat, willing back the flush in his cheeks with all his might. “So! It’s pretty cool that you believe in these kinds of stories, huh?”

“You’re not the only one connected to the world of magic and ghosts,” Cass replied.

Bewildered, Dick stared at her. He hadn’t once brought up ghosts. How did she know about them? Did she know too that he could see and interact with them? But before he could ask her anything, she only winked and raised a finger to her lips. 

Standing up in one fluid motion, she walked past Dick to ruffle his hair and deposit her mug in the sink. “Good night, Dick” she said. “We will talk later. But for now, rest.”

“Good night!” Dick called after her as she walked down the hallway into her room.

When he was sure she had left, he pinched his arm. The prickle of pain was real, as was the fact another person had just listened to Dick and believed him when he said he’d been visited by a guardian angel with a sword buried in his chest and even confirmed things like magic and ghosts and universe travelers existed. Things like the Knight of Gotham and his bride.

Dick shook his head, even as a burst of bright, warm hope unfurled in his chest, whispered to him that he could be that special person for Jason, that he could help Jason and make the pain go away.

And for the next week, the hope would linger, humming like a radiator in the back of his mind, amplifying the happiness of the days that came and went.

Dick hadn’t felt this happy in a long time. The tension that had built up in him, years of trying to hold his life together under Will’s watchful eye and steely judgment, had drained out of him - enough so that he smiled freely at school and beamed at work, chatting a mile a minute with Tim as they catalogued inventory together and exchanging witty banter with the store’s customers. He was comfortable at the apartment with Steph and Cass - and beginning to think of it as _their_ apartment - to the point he’d even begun singing in the shower and pitching in his own two cents to Steph’s running commentary and Cass’s occasional quips during the apartment’s Bad Movie Nights. And when he’d next hung out with Babs, she’d taken one look at him, thrown her arms around him, and whispered fiercely in his ear, “I’m so glad to see you this happy. You deserve it.” The teary look in her eyes had soon been replaced with a wicked glee when she’d learned about his and Cass’s conversation about the Knight’s bride.

“You’re wife material!” she crowed as Dick had groaned and swatted at her with a “I’ve had a total of one and a half conversations with him, I’m not gonna confront him next with a marriage proposition!”

“Maybe not,” she replied, bumping shoulders with him. “ _But_ you should totally ask him out when you next see him.”

It took a week for Dick to next see him - and not as Jason but as the Knight.

It had happened almost by accident. Dick had wrapped up his shift at Dungeons and Drakes when he’d suddenly felt a burning sensation in his chest, strong enough to make him stumble as he stepped out to meet Steph and Cass to walk back home with them.

Steph caught him before he could topple over. “Whoa there, circus boy, you OK?”

“Fine,” Dick gasped out, even as the searing sensation had spread to the rest of his body, lighting his nerves. He gripped her arms. “Just feel...a little lightheaded.”

Cass laid a steadying hand on his back as he sat down, back to the wall of the store’s display case. He put his head between his legs, squeezing his eyes shut to try to suppress the sensation.

It only roared at him. It wanted to burn the world to the ground, burn it to ashes if it meant scourging Gotham of all its depraved bastards. It hated having to hunt down the same monsters that existed in every world, was tired of how good people kept getting abused and exploited and killed in spite of its efforts, and if it burned this world down, it’d have to do the same the next time over and the one after that - 

_Jason._ Dick’s eyes snapped open. He scrambled to stand up, meeting Steph and Cass’s concerned eyes.

“I have to go,” he said and knew it to be true, that the sensation was tugging at him, leading him to the source of the burning, despairing anger. “To...to Park Row.” 

“Park Row?” asked a voice. When Dick looked up, he saw Tim leaning by the doorframe, arms folded. “I know you can handle yourself well enough but I would question the judgment of anybody who wants to go to Park Row at night of their own volition.” 

Dick switched his gaze over to focus on Cass instead. “The Knight. It’s him. I have to go.”

Cass regarded him carefully before her eyes slid to something behind him. “You will not be alone,” she said and when Dick turned around, he saw ghosts gathering a few feet away, all watching him. She squeezed his hand. “Stay safe.”

And with that, she ushered Tim and Steph away, nudging both of them to move with an insistent, “He will be fine, trust me.” Steph only raised her hands in surrender. “If Cass says you know what you’re doing, I’ll believe it. Just be careful and don’t do anything stupid, alright?”

Tim, on the other hand, only directed a stern gaze at Dick. “Text me when you get home safe, alright?” 

“Yeah. I will. Thanks, guys. I’ll be back.” And when Cass nodded at him, he turned and broke into a run towards where the sensation was pulling him in the direction of the ghosts.

As he ran, they joined him, keeping pace at his side.

“You’ll help him, right?” asked the young woman flanking his left, her neck mottled with bruises. “I owe him everything. He promised he’d look after my baby and that he wouldn’t let any of the other girls die the same way I did.”

“He’s sad,” said the little girl on his right in a ripped hospital gown. “He cried when he found me. He had a helmet on so I couldn’t see his face but I could hear him. Even though it wasn’t his fault.”

And the dark-haired boy in front of him, without turning around, said, “He’s a good guy. He’s trying to avenge my death and the others too, but he’s done enough already; he’s gonna get hurt if he doesn’t stop now.”

Dick skidded to a halt when he saw a faint green glow in the alley around the next corner.

When he approached, he saw a man in a blue helmet and metallic body armor standing over a slumped body. 

The green sword hilt protruding from the man’s chest meant it should have been Jason. But staring into the blood-splattered surface of the Knight’s helmet, Dick realized this Jason was far different from the one who took his wrist gently to eat a bite of cake or left him flowers and poetry on his desk.

Dick swallowed. This Jason or any version of him wouldn’t hurt him. And though he couldn’t make out the features of the body on the ground in the darkness, he knew they still had to be alive; Jason couldn’t - wouldn’t - have killed them.

So he stood his ground, even as the Knight advanced toward him.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the Knight said, his voice cold and flat. “Leave if you know what’s right for you.”

“This _is_ right,” Dick replied, lifting his head to try to meet the Knight’s gaze through the helmet’s glowing white lenses. “Finding you so you don’t have to be alone. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

The Knight was deathly still.

“What would you know about what I need or what I’m going through?” he said quietly and even the voice modulator couldn’t contain the trembling notes of rage underlying the words. “You know nothing. Absolutely goddamned nothing. No one knows. No one ever will!” He slammed a fist against the brick wall of the alley, leaving a crack in the surface.

The burning sensation inside Dick flared, searing anger tempered by the grief constricting his lungs, flooding his airways. Dick breathed in and out, trying to soothe the edges of the burning pain. “But I can feel it,” he said. He pressed a hand to the Knight’s chest, the metal plating cool to the touch. The Knight jerked away.

Dick pressed on. “It burns. That’s you burning out from trying to carry the whole city on your shoulders. And the ghosts could tell too. They wanted me to come here and tell you they’re grateful. That they don’t blame you and they want you to be OK.” 

“Because they’re good people,” said the Knight and the anger in his voice had died, the burning sensation reduced to hollowed embers now. “They’re good people that I failed because I didn’t make it in time. And I was a fucking idiot for ever thinking it could end up differently. For telling myself I could shut down shit before the bodies started piling up just because I was able to uncover a sex trafficking ring, a human experimentation lab, and a murder cult all in my first three days here. But I was still too late.” The Knight took a ragged breath. “What’s the - what’s the fucking use of being the Knight if I can’t stop any of it in time?”

Dick’s mind kept cycling back to the _sex trafficking, human experimentation, murder cult_ but Dick pushed away the horror bubbling up inside him to focus on the Knight - Jason - instead, shoulders heaving and fists clenched.

“You didn’t have to be the Knight if you didn’t want to,” Dick said. “You could’ve walked away from it all but you didn’t. And because you’re doing this, you’ve stopped so many people from falling through the cracks. You’ve remembered the dead and given hope back to the living. That _has_ to mean something. It does, to me. It means everything to me.”

The Knight looked at Dick wordlessly before his shoulders slumped, his hands unclenching by his sides. “Go home,” the Knight said, sounding tired. “It’s not safe for you.”

Before Dick could second-guess himself, he reached for the Knight’s gloved hand and took it. He could feel the damp stickiness of the bloodstained fabric pressing against his palm, the sturdy strength of the fingers clasped in his, but he didn’t pull away. 

“Take me home then.” He looked at the body behind the Knight, an unconscious man in a suit with a bloodied face curled up on his side. Mustering more bravado that he currently had, he added, “He’s not dead, is he? The GCPD can handle him.” 

The Knight sighed. Either unaware he was still holding Dick’s hand or unwilling to let go, he used his other hand to dig in his leather jacket pocket for a flip phone before punching in a few numbers. “Tell Jim I left him an informant on the Court of Owls in Park Row. Two blocks from Dr. Thompkins’s clinic.” 

Snapping the phone shut and sliding it back in his pocket, the Knight made a motion as if drawing open a curtain and a portal. “Don’t blame me if you get portal-sick,” was all he said before he tightened his grip on Dick’s hand and stepped in to pull Dick through.

The world spun around Dick for a moment in a dizzying swirl of colors before his feet landed abruptly back on a solid surface. He staggered back but the Knight pulled him upright in front of what he recognized as the door to his apartment complex.

“Thanks,” Dick wheezed. “I’m totally not … portal-sick or whatever you call it. Everything’s fine.”

“If you say so,” the Knight replied, almost sounding amused. The curtness returned to his voice when he followed up with, “Don’t get in any more trouble,” and let go of Dick’s hand, turning his back to presumably teleport somewhere else. 

Dick hastily grabbed a hold of the Knight’s wrist before he could take off again. “Thanks again. For the free ride, and for listening to me. Also, you should rest now.”

The lenses of the Knight’s helmet narrowed at him. “Or else?”

“Or else - ” Dick said, drawing out the phrase before inspiration struck. “Or else I’ll look for you again, even though it’s a bad idea for me to be going out now, and then you’ll have to be responsible for me.”

“You’d be willing to leverage your own safety to force my hand?” the Knight asked flatly.

“Yes?” Dick replied, offering the Knight his most charming smile.

“Making puppy eyes isn’t going to work on me,” the Knight retorted and Dick could almost hear Jason’s voice under the vocal distortion technology. “Fine, you win this time. But I won’t be so nice the next time you get in my way..”

He tugged his arm out of Dick’s grasp and Dick let him go this time, watching as he disappeared in a swirl of green light. 

Dick looked back at the hand he’d used to touch the Knight. Under the dim glow of the nearby street lighting, he could see the rust-red residue speckling his palm and fingers. 

He splayed his hand against his chest, where the burning sensation had faded away.

Cass had said she didn’t believe in coincidences. If it was fate that had brought Jason into Dick’s life, then surely it was also fate that brought Dick to Jason.

Dick let his hand drop. There was no way he could leave Jason be, especially not after tonight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- and now the real romancing begins, in chapter three and onwards :) i thank you in advance for your patience!
> 
> a few friends teased me for the fact i chose to celebrate the day after graduation by polishing off a few drinks of hard lemonade and resuming my progress in working on this chapter. i wanted to recount this in the end notes as an opportunity to defend the validity of both my choice of drink and activity while also offering up the much more genuine apology for any glaring typos made while tipsy and the promise i will go back to correct these mistakes when pointed out :>


	3. rising, not falling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> grateful to have cranked out this chapter at long last! in the meantime, i wanted to affirm how wonderful it was to have enjoyed the jaydick works produced by so many talented writers over the summer and fall; the joy of experiencing so many incredible stories is what inspired me to persevere with this project :) 
> 
> **content warnings for this chapter include graphic portrayal of character death and scarring, suicidal ideation, and a description of a character's panic attack.**  
>  also minor spoilers for the movie _into the spiderverse_ , which inspired the title for this chapter.

Jason teleported into the apartment, only to be subjected to a withering look from Damian.

“As heroic as your feats may be, Knight, know that I absolutely will not tolerate you tracking blood all over my home,” Damian said. The bite of his caustic words was tempered by the fact he was sprawled on the living room couch like a large cat, slitted green eyes and all.

Jason unlaced his boots. “You might’ve gotten bigger in this world but you’re still a little bitch, you know that?” Before Damian could retort, he added, “Yeah, all right, I’ll clean up the fucking blood, just let a guy catch his breath, will you?”

He tramped into the bathroom, ignoring Damian’s irate commentary behind him in favor of swinging the door shut with a resounding thud. He tugged off his helmet, a sigh hissing through his teeth. The last thing he needed was Damian on his case, especially when he’d lost control earlier, the seething green anger burning, eating away at him and leaving behind a growing, aching void of despair. 

He swiftly moved to shuck off his jacket and strip off his body armor to derail the train of thought threatening to hurtle back into the dark place he had been in. But he paused as he pulled off his left glove, the one that Dick had held onto as he asked Jason to bring him home. 

Dick’s hand had been slender and graceful. But unexpectedly strong too, refusing to let go even as he lifted his head up to meet Jason’s gaze head-on.

Fuck. He should’ve tried harder to put up a pretense, to act like he didn’t know Dick, that he didn’t care about him, so Dick wouldn’t recognize him. But now, Dick knew he was the Knight. And more than that, Dick had seen his anger. His violence.

He had tainted Dick with the blood on his hands and Dick had continued to hold on. The worst part of all was that a traitorous part of Jason had wanted Dick to hold on, even though he should have had the kid’s interests at heart, enough to cut off all ties with him to never expose him to danger - not just the danger of Gotham’s darkness but the danger that was the Knight. Him.

Jason looked at himself in the mirror, cataloguing injuries, scars, the sword protruding from his chest. He reached up to grip the hilt and just like always, the sword refused to budge.

He was cursed. He’d only corrupt Dick if they remained in contact.

Jason stepped into the shower, cranking the shower heat up and watching the blood sluice down his body, swirling in a pool around his feet before slipping into the drain. He thought about how the events of the night should scare Dick off once the full extent of his encounter with the Knight had sunk in. He ignored the fact he knew far too well Dick was too dense to ever back away from danger that interested him.

He soaped up mindlessly as his mind drifted to the question of how Dick had found him in the first place. Back in the alley, he had said to Jason he could feel his emotions. At the time, Jason had thought nothing of it, other than another attempt on Dick’s part to coax him out of his anger. But if Dick could actually somehow attune himself to Jason’s emotions, it must mean -

Jason shut down the thought as soon as it crept into his mind. He’d already indulged himself enough by taking a break from patrol because of Dick. He couldn’t afford to indulge himself further. 

He toweled himself off, a tinge more aggressively than usual to scrape off the misgivings building up in him. He’d done enough damage appearing as “Jason” to Dick. He couldn’t go any further like this, not when he was the Knight with a Mission that couldn’t be compromised, especially not by the likes of Dick Grayson.

God, he sounded just like B. Jason ran a hand through his hair. He didn’t want to become Bruce either, had been fighting off the creeping horror that a century of traveling through the multiverse had turned him into the very thing he’d sought to become the antithesis of, but if it meant protecting Dick, he’d have to face the music sooner or later.

Of course, three days later, he felt a familiar invisible thread tug at him just as he’d swung himself out onto the fire escape for a morning smoke. Even if he tried, he couldn’t resist its pull, a pull that landed him -

In somewhere he couldn’t afford to process and take in because there was a panicked Dick Grayson staring up at him, wielding a flaming pan.

Of all things, Jason’s mind also helpfully picked up on the completely irrelevant detail that Dick was wearing a large sleep shirt, one that exposed his smooth bare legs.

Jason wordlessly looked up at the ceiling for a moment, cursing the higher powers and their idea of a cosmic joke, before he moved to take the pan from Dick. Spotting a baking tray on the counter, he slammed it on top of the pan before reaching over to shut off the flame.

“You’re lucky I’m here to sort out the trashfire that’s your life,” Jason snapped before he turned around to face Dick. Dick, who had last seen him as the Knight, who looked at him startled now, surprise flicking across his features. But slowly, he offered Jason a small smile. “Good of you to show up in the heat of the moment?”

His smile grew wider at the distinctly unamused look Jason shot at him. “Don’t flame me for my char-ming sense of humor.”

Terrible puns had apparently translated as a Grayson trait across the multiverse. Jason swallowed the unexpected pang of nostalgia to deadpan, “Are you done yet.”

Dick only laughed in response. “I’m done, I’m done. Thanks for your help. Really. I didn’t realize guardian angel duty extended to firefighting.” 

“It doesn’t,” Jason replied, folding his arms. He should’ve left but he couldn’t ignore the offensive charred remains clinging to the bottom of the pan just yet. “What were you trying to make?” 

“Pancakes?”

Jason glanced once more at the still smoking pan before he let out a resigned sigh. “That’s an insult to the existence of pancakekind,” he said. “Looks like I have no choice but to show you how to make ‘em.”

“Pancakekind,” Dick repeated, delighted.

“Hand me that spatula,” Jason replied instead of admitting that in fact the word ‘pancakekind’ had come out of his mouth and that being with Dick always brought out the child in him that was supposed to be buried six feet under and then some. 

“Yes, sir!” Dick chirped, firing off a salute before scrambling to yank open a drawer to pass him one.

They cooked together with a casual ease as if their past interaction hadn’t consisted of one stopping the other from beating a cult member to a pulp at the risk of incurring the latter’s wrath. Jason set Dick to work in collecting the milk and eggs and melting the butter while he snagged the dry ingredients to sift into a bowl. With a spoon, he carved out a well for Dick to pour his items in before mixing everything together.

When he noticed Dick on his tiptoes peering over his shoulder to watch, he elbowed Dick in the ribs and heard an indignant squeak. “ _I’ll_ handle the cooking,” he said. “You set the table.”

“Only if you make a fun shape for me,” Dick replied. When Jason turned around to shoot him a look, he added, “My ribs still hurt from you elbowing me too hard. You have to make it up to me.” Before Jason could retort that he should be grateful just to have his breakfast cooked for him, he bore a hasty retreat, slipping away to yank out the cutlery drawer with a loud clatter.

It was definitely loud enough to disturb the other residents of the apartment, if the earlier commotion hadn’t already. Jason poured the batter into a shape in the heated pan as he tossed out, “Where’s Blondie and Quiet but Deadly?” 

There was a pause as Dick processed the question. “Steph and Cass? Oh, they went out for boozy brunch today. How do you know them? You even gave them accurate nicknames.” 

Jason flipped the pancake over. “I know everything, remember?” Once both sides of the pancake had turned golden-brown, he slid it onto a plate and rapped a knuckle against the kitchen counter. “Here’s your fun shape, brat. That’s the only one you’re getting.” 

Dick sidled up. He snuck one look at the distinctly phallus-shaped pancake before his face split into a grin. “You _do_ have a sense of humor,” he crowed triumphantly before reaching into the cabinet above to grab a bottle of syrup, which he then began to drizzle liberally over the pancake.

The poor pancake was wallowing in syrup at this point. “That’s disgusting,” Jason commented. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that travesty and go on making more for the both of us. While you’re waiting, take out the toppings.”

Dick peeked into the fridge. “We have butter, whipped cream, and blueberries,” he called out. “Also do you never say please or thank you when you ask people to do things? Actually you don’t even ask people, you order them around.”

“I order _you_ around,” Jason corrected. “Because someone needs to keep you in check.” By now, he’d churned out enough pancakes to produce a sizable stack. He brought it over to the kitchen table and piled a few onto his plate only to be met by Dick’s incredulous gaze. “What?”

“Keep me in check? More like, I keep _you_ in check.” They were edging back into dark and dangerous territory again, towards the night in the alley, Dick’s hands catching Jason’s, becoming stained with the blood that Jason had drawn like second nature. A night whose terrible truth should go unspoken to maintain the pretense of peace. Dick must have sensed it because he opened his mouth to bring up that night, only to snap it shut, swallowing down the words.

Instead, he scooped up a few pancakes onto his own plate and said, “What I meant to say was, I can keep you in check. Want to know how?” 

Dick had dodged the conversational bullet with surprising grace. But that was good; things could continue as they were, between the two of them. So Jason only smirked at Dick, drawled, “Enlighten the ignorant masses, O Wise One.”

“We-ll,” Dick said, drawing out the word. “I was trying to blow out the fire when you showed up. And the last time you appeared in front of me, I had just blown out my birthday candles. So that means I can summon you any time I blow out a flame.”

That made sense. Horrifying sense, judging by the devious grin on Dick’s face as he presumably imagined all the ridiculous reasons he could summon Jason for. “Don’t exploit this, Grayson, or you’ll regret it.” 

“Yeah, I shouldn’t fan the flames.” Dick grinned at him. “See, that one was funny, right?”

“I’m leaving.” 

Jason even stood up to begin making his way to the door but Dick tugged on his jacket sleeve to pull him back. “If you go, I’ll start another fire to blow out and summon you back. Also you haven’t even touched your pancakes yet. You should at least finish them.”

He had a point; even a century later, Jason Todd couldn’t turn down a free meal if he tried. He dropped back in his seat to stare Dick down. “My life’s miserable enough without a kid like you having the power to summon me at your beck and call.”

Dick only cocked his head. “Do you think of me as a kid?”

“Yes.”

“Because you’re immortal?”

Jason’s hand stilled from where it had begun reaching for a fork. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said and curled his fingers, curled back the desire to break something the way Dick had just shattered his last chance to lead a normal, well-adjusted life.

The worst part about it was Dick had taken it upon himself to plunge into Jason’s world and was all the more determined to make headway knowing it was a world he had no business stepping foot in. And even if Jason tried, he couldn’t stop Dick because that was always how Dick was - acting on instinct without thinking of the consequences, without considering what would happen if he named the ancient cursed being sitting across from him at the kitchen table. 

He knew he should’ve cut ties with Dick sooner, for Dick’s own good.

Dick, oblivious to the situation at hand, kept talking. “You’re the Knight. You helped me, just like you helped those ghosts. You’re a good person -”

“You’ve got the wrong idea.”

“ - and it’s OK even if you lose control because I’ll be here for you. Because I’m your bride.”

Jason stopped short at that, looked up to meet Dick’s eyes, completely serious. In a split second, the situation had pivoted from Jason as a present danger to Dick becoming a threat, invoking things he had no understanding of. _Congratulations and condolences,_ the incarnation of Death had told Jason as it had condemned him to unending life alone until he would find his other half to complete his existence and -

Jason willed the memories away. He needed to be present to address the situation at hand once he regained his bearings, which was easier said than done. He couldn’t even bring himself to ask how Dick heard about the bride story in the first place because there was far too much to unpack. Instead, Jason cleared his throat to flatly state, “You can’t be my bride. You’re male.” 

“You’re being sexist. Don’t you know unnecessary gendering is outdated these days?” Dick retorted. He pursed his lips. “Why, do you have a problem with having a male partner?”

“Fuck no, I’m bi,” Jason responded instinctively before his mind could catch up with his mouth. He scrubbed a weary hand across his face. “That’s not the point. You’re in high school. You’ve got a whole life ahead of you. You don’t need to become unnecessarily involved with me. You don’t even know me.” 

At that, Dick lifted his head. “But I do,” he said, in a voice so sure that it called back memories of long ago, of a black-blue svelte silhouette soaring across Gotham’s skyline without a single fear to drag him down. 

“I know you,” Dick said again to Jason, his eyes bright. He took a breath. “I know that you know how to make fun pancake shapes and write haikus and stop abusers from hurting their victims any more. I know when when you smile, the right side of your mouth always lifts up first, but your eyes don’t smile because you’re sad deep down, but you still care about people anyways and you’re nice to me even though you don’t have to be. I know that I want to help you and that sword in your chest looks like it hurts.” 

Even in this universe, Dick had to have the last word. As silence fell between them as Jason processed it all, the full implications of Dick’s words sinking in. Dick, for all that he was a kid at eighteen years old, had paid more attention to Jason than he expected or deserved, had seen him for who he truly was in ways no one else could have.

Jason stopped short. Dick had seen him.

 _In ways no one else could have_ echoed in his head, a ringing indictment as the pieces fell into place with crystal clarity.

“You can see it,” Jason said and it was less a question than a statement. 

Dick nodded wordlessly. 

“No one’s supposed to be able to see the sword except the bride.” He looked at Dick and Dick looked back, expression obstinate. 

“I _told_ you so,” Dick said. 

Jason’s mouth twitched in spite of himself.

He had thought often about it, what it meant to be cursed as the Knight. And while he had long understood the curse was not just the fate of immortality but also in the condition of ceaseless solitude, his mind would pick and pull at the promised prophecy of meeting his bride one day. Inevitably, the train of thought would depart from the solace of finally finding a companion to fend off the aching void of loneliness to the grim understanding that when he did find someone who would love him enough to stay by his side, his existence would come to an end by the very hands of his own bride.

If Dick was able to pull out the sword, it’d put an end to it all. The endless wandering, the sleepless nights, the crumbling of his strength and sanity, ravaged by a merciless passage of time no human body should be able to withstand. The agony of the sword burning in him, the violence he was unable to cure seared in his body, all-consuming like the hundreds of years of life he had lived, a century and more of memories of incomprehensible and incessant brutality in the universes he had moved through festering in him. 

If Dick pulled out the sword, Jason would know peace at last. 

And maybe if he was the one to end Jason’s immortality, Dick would be upset. But he would have a whole lifetime ahead of him to move on without Jason. Now that Dick had rebuilt his life, he didn’t need Jason anymore. 

It would be an inevitable outcome, a righting of the wrong that was Jason Todd’s immortal existence blighting every universe he had come across. It would re-stabilize the multiverse and this world, every world would move on without him once he had been laid to rest.

An eerie calm settled over Jason. “If you know you’re the bride, you can free me from this.” He rested a hand on the hilt of the sword jutting from his chest.

Dick swallowed, his throat bobbing. “You’ll get better if I do? It won’t hurt anymore?” 

“Yeah,” Jason said. “That’s exactly right.”

Dick nodded. “OK,” he said and straightened his shoulders. “I’ll do it.”

Slowly, he reached for the sword, his slender brown hands wrapping around a solidifying hilt, before locking gazes with Jason.

The last time Jason had died, he hadn’t wanted to look at Grayson for fear of what he’d find in his expression. But this time, if there was one last thing he could see before he faded into oblivion, Jason wanted it to be the blue of Dick’s eyes. 

It wouldn’t feel like dying that way. It would be like sinking into the ocean, enveloped by the soft, soothing pull of waters that would bring him to a place where nothing hurt anymore. 

It would be all right.

“Here I go,” Dick murmured and tightened his grip on the sword hilt.

But as soon as he began to pull, the hilt shimmered, dissolving into dancing particles of green light that slipped from his hands. When Dick uncurled his hands, the specks of light re-knitted themselves into the shape of the hilt. 

“You aren’t my bride, after all,” Jason said flatly, even as disappointment and relief washed over him, strong enough to sweep away all thoughts of the end and leave him on the shore, staring out at the horizon of what could have been.

In front of him, Dick let his hands drop to his side as he blinked, visibly trying to gather his bearings. “Well, I’m not your bride right now but I could be.” At the look on Jason’s face, he added, “We can’t go from strangers to married in one instant, right? We have to date first.” He nodded to himself. “Exactly, that must be why I can see and touch the sword but can’t pull it out. Because we have to get closer.” 

Jason, on the other hand, was hung up on only one word. “Date,” he repeated.

“Yup,” Dick chirped. “I think it’s a good idea but of course, you’d have to want it too.” 

If Jason was a good person, he would’ve turned Dick down. He should. Hadn’t he just contemplated moments ago disappearing from this world so Dick could move on with his life? Hadn’t he been telling himself he needed to keep his distance from Dick as to not cause any further trouble as the Knight?

But Jason looked now at Dick, who looked back at him from under curled lashes, large sleep shirt sliding off one shoulder, in a kitchen they had shared where Jason had fed him and he’d in turn supplied Jason with a stream of conversation, eddies of warm laughter and effortless banter cooling the burn of the curse. 

It was easy to be with Dick, even when it was hard to just be, and Dick had known that, coaxed it out of him in a sunlit kitchen with the promise that things didn’t have to hurt anymore.

Someone had to stop Dick from drowning his pancakes in syrup, Jason thought helplessly to himself. “Three dates. That’s all you’re getting,” he said before he could stop himself.

Dick beamed at him. 

________________________

So now Dick had a boyfriend. Or maybe he would have to complete the three dates as promised for Jason to be his boyfriend. Or maybe Jason would cut off ties as soon as the three dates were over, leaving Dick forever alone and pining for his destined soulmate. Or maybe —

“Hold on,” Duke Thomas said from across the table. “You haven’t even gone on a single date yet, you can’t be talking about things ending _already_. That being said - ” He took a long sip of coffee as Dick fidgeted in his seat, awaiting his verdict in anticipation. 

Duke finally set his cup down. “I’m happy for you.” He cracked a grin at the relief that washed over Dick’s features. “I mean it, dude, that’s fantastic news. What, did you think I was gonna yell at you?”

Dick offered him a wobbly smile in turn. “There’s a lot you could judge me for. Not you, specifically, since you’ve never judged me, but - “ He cleared his throat, making an effort to curb his rambling. As giddy as he had been at the prospect of becoming closer with Jason, he’d been nervous to tell anyone, even someone as understanding as Duke, because of how he’d be written off as young and reckless for wanting to involve himself with the Knight. “Anyways, your opinion means a lot to me so I’m just really glad to hear you’re OK with it all.” 

Duke only shot him a knowing look. “We both know what it’s like to see and live through things no one else will understand. It’s OK for love to fall in that category too. Hell, love doesn’t make sense even when it happens between ordinary humans. There’s a crazy age difference, sure, but if he’s a century older than you, give or take a few years, the human construct of age probably doesn’t apply anymore.” Dick let out a laugh at that. “And you’re young but you know how to read people. So if you think he’s good - and good for you, I trust it.” 

When Dick smiled at Duke this time, it came much more easily. Duke had been the first human he’d met who could also see ghosts, courtesy of Babs who’d introduced the two after haranguing Dick about not having any other friends and insisting that he befriend the one other trustworthy human she’d discovered. Duke Thomas, brilliant enough to become the youngest crime scene investigator for the GCPD who paired his keen intuition and tireless work ethic with his gift of supernatural sight to crack even the hardest of cases. But more than that, he not only took the time to talk to ghosts to collect information on the nature of their deaths and hunt down any evidence human eyes may have missed but was also committed to carrying out their final wishes so they could move on from the world of the living. Which is why he’d encountered Babs and asked what he could do for her, only for her to cheerily reply that Dick had taken care of her request but that she had another reason for staying.

Neither Dick nor Duke knew the reason and Babs wouldn’t budge. The two of them had bonded over an appreciation of Babs’s strong nature, as well late night McDonalds runs and crime show marathons when Duke was able to take time out of his schedule to hang out. While Dick was living under Cobb’s roof, hanging out with Babs and Duke was the only reprieve he could find - and he was determined not to drag either of them into his issues. But Duke had picked up on the situation by their fourth hangout; according to Babs, he had sworn to deliver Cobb to justice with his very own hands, digging relentlessly for anything that could possibly incriminate the man, until “your Knight took care of things.” 

So it made sense that Duke would approve of Jason for having done away with Cobb.

Also by the looks of it, if Duke had more than platonic feelings for Babs, he definitely wouldn’t judge Dick. The weight of anxiety lifted completely off his shoulders, Dick took a triumphant swig of his caramel macchiato only to cough at the rush of hot sugary liquid burning the back of his throat. By the amused expression on Duke’s face, it hadn’t escaped his notice but he was gracious enough not to comment on it.

“So,” Dick croaked. “Did you know about the Knight even before this?”

Duke dipped his head. “The Knight’s an urban legend that only people whose families have lived here for generations would know. There’s variations of the legend but most agree that Gotham has a guardian spirit that watches over it. If this city was born from the shadows, the only reason it hasn’t been swallowed up by the darkness is because of the Knight and how it possesses Gothamites to step up to defend the city. A lot of Gothamites born and raised in the city believe heroes like the Birds of Prey are incarnations of the Knight. But the ghosts who have haunted Gotham for centuries tell a different story.” He drummed his fingers against the tabletop. “What they say lines up much more with what you’ve been telling me. That the Knight is an actual person, not entirely human, who moves between worlds as an undead protector of life. So you’ve confirmed what the ghosts have been saying but then again, ghosts that old would be right about everything.”

“So a ghost like Babs wouldn’t know because she’s a newer ghost, right?” Dick thought back to what Cass had told him about the Knight. Cass had known somehow, had even mysteriously ended her conversation with him with “You’re not the only one connected to the world of magic and ghosts.” But Cass _wasn’t_ a ghost, Dick knew that much. If she wasn’t a ghost, what could she be? 

“You look like you’re going to pull a muscle mulling this over,” Duke remarked and Dick laughed sheepishly in response. “All right, my turn to ask you something. The real question is, do you have the Knight’s number?”

Dick grinned at him. “You bet I do!” He pulled out his phone - which he was now using far more regularly, now that Cobb wasn’t around to monitor his texts and Internet history - to show his exchange of texts with Jason to Duke across the table.

 _>_ _so when can i cash in on our 1st date? :DDDDD_

 _>_ _I’m free on Sundays and Mondays._

_For the record, no date we go on will ever measure up to five emojis’ worth of excitement_

_> _ _:(((((_

 _>_ _...Maybe one to two emojis worth. Three is pushing it._

 _>_ _:DDD_

_okie lets do this sunday then! what do u want to do?_

_>_ _That’s my line._

_You were the one who propositioned me so you decide. I’ll go along with whatever you want._

_>_ _chuck e cheese? ;)_

 _> _ _FUCK no._

 _> _ _hahaha jkjk i was just testing you_

_well this is actually gonna be my 1st date so anything we do will be new and fun for me!_

_>_ _………_

 _>_ _...what?_

 _>_ _…Are you sure you’d want to spend your first date with me of all people?_

 _>_ _duh! who else has brought me flowers and romanced me with pancakes?_

 _>_ _It was *one* flower that I stole from some poor person’s garden and I made you_ _pancakes so you wouldn’t starve in your kitchen. This is the opposite of romantic._

 _>_ _ok but they were dick-shaped pancakes ;))))_

 _> _ _For fuck’s sake._

_OK fine I’ll decide._

_Dinner and movie at my place at 7?_

_I have a roommate but he shouldn’t be a problem._

_>_ _works for me!! where do u live?_

 _>_ _Above the tea shop in Gotham Heights. Gotham Tea House._

 _>_ _oooh ive never been!_

_see u soon then! :DDD thank u in advance for hosting!_

_> _ _See you._

“He seems endearing in a grumpy old man kind of way, which checks out if he’s more than a century old,” Duke commented wryly. “He better not look that way.” 

“Definitely not,” Dick answered with a laugh as he thought back to Jason cooking in his kitchen, the flex of his bronze corded arms and the furrow of his thick brows.

“It must be nice to be young and in love, huh?”

Dick felt his cheeks heat up. “You’re not that much older than me!” he shot back indignantly while he mentally scrambled to pull himself together. “Also, since you’re the youngest investigator on the force, you’re like a baby to all your coworkers. A genius baby that they’re all jealous of because you solve all the cases they can’t.”

Duke groaned. “Quit hyping me up, I’m not _that_ good.” 

“I’m only telling the truth,” Dick replied sincerely. “It’s because you’ve never given up on finding justice for the people who’ve never gotten it that so many ghosts in this city can finally rest now. Their families too - thanks to you, they can move on. That’s the best gift you could give them, you know?” 

Duke was quiet for a moment. “It means a lot to hear that from you, Dick. Thanks,” he said at last before offering Dick a small smile. “I feel like I’ve been letting down a lot of people lately but you’re right - I can’t give up. I’m going to get to the bottom of this case, no matter what it takes.”

Dick felt a pang. This whole time, Duke had let him talk about Jason, had shown him nothing but the utmost support and attention, all while he’d been silently carrying this weight on his shoulders. “You should’ve said something earlier. This is way more important than anything going on on my end. Babs would yell at you too for keeping this all to yourself.”

“Well, it’s not every day that you hear your friend’s gotten together with the immortal guardian of Gotham,” Duke replied lightly before his expression grew serious once more. “And I didn’t want to drag Babs into this. She’d be in danger if she did get involved.”

He rubbed the back of his head pensively, collecting his thoughts. “For the past month, there’s been someone … no, something, going around Gotham draining the souls out of people. It’s not even really killing them; if it did, it’d leave behind ghosts. Instead there’s been a trail of bodies but they’re all empty husks. No one who was assigned to the case could figure it out so I volunteered to help get to the bottom of this. But I couldn’t even track down ghost witnesses for the longest time. All because this thing preys on both the living and the undead but when it devours ghosts, it doesn’t leave a single trace.” 

Dick’s blood ran cold. Ghosts were tethered to the world of the living by the strength of their unfulfilled desires; once their final wishes had been granted, they would either be given the chance to rest at last in the afterlife or to be reborn again. For ghosts to be erased from existence without any final closure would mean dying a permanent death. 

It would be painful, to be swallowed into nothingness when the only thing you had wanted in life and longed for even more in death was just at your fingertips.

Dick reached over to clasp Duke’s hand. “I know I can’t stop you from taking on this case. And that I don’t want to, because someone has to do something and I believe it has to be you. But you have to promise me you’ll stay safe. That you’ll come back to me and Babs once this is all over.” 

Duke laid another hand over Dick’s. When Dick looked up at Duke, startled, he was met by Duke’s unwavering gaze, his usually dark eyes glowing faintly gold. “I promise. Trust me when I say I’ve definitely got enough firepower to take this thing down.” The gold faded as he squeezed Dick’s hand firmly. “And with that, I should head out now. And you should clear your mind of all this so you can have fun on your date tonight. Don’t forget to update me or Babs, alright?”

Dick shot him a thumbs up as he stood up in one fluid motion and slipped on his GCPD jacket. In turn, Duke fired off a two-fingered salute as he took his leave, only stopping by the cashier to drop a few bills into the tip jar and offer a comment to the barista there that made her laugh before heading out the door. 

Duke Thomas was really cool, Dick thought as he sank back into his seat with a smile.

Since John Grayson had passed away, Duke was the closest thing Dick had to a positive male role model to look up to - and they’d only met about a year ago. But while Dick had been living under Cobb’s roof, he hadn’t wanted to weigh Duke down with his issues, especially knowing how generous of heart Duke was, how readily he gave his all to others, how much he’d given up already. But with Jason coming into his life, opening the door to Steph, Cass, and Tim who had taken him in and giving him the chance to start his life anew, he felt like he was no longer in a place to burden Duke. 

It felt good. 

Dick took one last sip of his drink while looking up the time on his phone. He had a couple free hours before their date so he might as well make use of them. 

A ten minute walk later found him at the local library, doing possibly the most unromantic activity a person could do before going on a date: revising their college application essays. 

Well, at least Ms. Bertinelli would be proud of him for wading through one final round of revisions for his Gotham University application essay. She had said this draft was in good shape and that after reviewing it one more time, he’d be all set to submit. Submitting, however, turned out to be far more difficult than revising; mouse hovering over the “Submit” button, he thought about how one more click could possibly open or close the door to his future. 

Dick ended up submitting the essay only because his finger slipped and clicked the button. But as the confirmation screen popped up, a giddy rush of relief coursed through his veins, bubbling up as laughter. Right, he was doing this. Going to college. Going on a date. He was going places. 

With that, he made his way over to the tea house with a bounce in his step. The sight of it took his breath away; from the beautiful flowing calligraphy of the sign to the delicately crafted tea cups in the display case, the entire place had been designed by an artist with a discerning eye and a steady hand. If Jason’s roommate was the owner of the tea house, they must be talented. Dick allowed himself to linger a moment longer in front of the shop before approaching the side of the shop where a stairway led to the second floor. 

Standing in front of the green door, he drew in a deep breath. There was no reason he should feel nervous. He had encountered Jason as the Knight and not been afraid. Everything would be all right. They’d tease each other and Jason would laugh, even if he didn’t mean to, and Dick would hold onto the memory of it, the warm glow of Jason’s eyes and the slow unfurling of his crooked smile, so he could replay it in his head afterwards.

It would be good. 

But when he knocked on the door and it swung open, every one of his thoughts crumbled into nothing.

“Richard Grayson,” said the grim reaper who had come for his parents.

Dick stared up and the thought occurred to him that the reaper felt as tall to him as it did five years ago looming over his parents’ crumpled bodies. He should have grown since then, enough to meet its gleaming jade eyes evenly, but just like before, he could feel himself sink further and further into the shadow it cast over him, a darkness that crept into his vision as he tried to suck air into his lungs, heart thrumming, pounding in his ears as he stumbled backwards

And his back collided with a wall. It was warm, solid, its presence enough to ground him so that when he looked up, he caught a glimpse of a strong jawline, a scar stretching upwards, a white-streaked fringe of dark hair.

Jason.

It was Jason.

The vise clamping around Dick’s heart loosened just a little. He felt Jason draw him close and he gratefully pressed his face to Jason’s chest and took a shuddering breath, fingers knotting in Jason’s shirt where he could anchor himself to Jason’s warmth radiating through the soft fabric.

The voices of Jason and the reaper drifted past him. 

“Back off, he’s under my protection.”

“I had no intentions on approaching him to begin with. His time is yet to come. I was simply answering the door. So he is … yours?”

“Yeah, he is. Got a problem with that?”

“None at all. If anything, Todd, I wish you would cease with this ridiculous posturing of yours, it’s unbecoming and frankly insulting.” 

The wall behind Dick shifted. Jason was moving, guiding Dick inside while using his own height to block the grim reaper from sight. Even as his body relaxed now that the looming presence of the reaper was gone, the residual miasma of grief and horror sat heavy in Dick’s chest, clouding his senses so that he was only faintly aware of his surroundings, of Jason nudging him into a room, onto a bed. 

The weight of it was suffocating. Dick let his head drop between his knees, stared at the blurring wooden floorboards, tried to pull air into his lungs, tried to pull the pieces back together but there was nothing, nothing left, they were gone, they were never coming back.

The door clicked shut and a hand rested on his knee.

“Dick, breathe.”

Dick shook his head. He couldn’t. He couldn’t, not when they were falling through the air and time had stopped as soon as their bodies hit the ground.

“Yes, you can. I’ll walk you through it.” The hand squeezed his knee. “Exhale and expel any air in your lungs. Let it out in one breath. Let it go. There we go. Inhale for four seconds. One... two... three…. four.... Good. Hold your breath for seven seconds. Count them down. You’re doing good. Keep going. Now, exhale for eight seconds. Slow and steady. As you exhale, your body’s going to relax so you can take in more air. Just like that. We’ll do it again. Four-seven-eight. Inhale, hold, exhale. I’ll do it with you.”

Dick followed Jason’s directions mindlessly, soaked in the quiet, low timbre of his voice, the calming sound of his breathing, that lifted him from the dizzying whorl of panic threatening to swallow him whole. Gradually, as his chest began to rise and fall with less difficulty and his vision cleared, he looked at Jason, kneeling in front of him, face upturned.

Jason’s expression held no judgment. “You OK?”

Dick nodded, then swallowed. The least he owed Jason was an explanation, if he could find in himself to put it all into words. A silence stretched between them but Jason only waited patiently, giving him the room to collect his thoughts.

“I’m OK,” he said. “Just... Seeing it brought back a lot of memories.”

Jason exhaled. “Sorry. I would’ve mentioned it but I didn’t think you’d be able to sense what he actually is.” 

Dick shook his head. “You couldn’t have known. And I think if it...if _he_ was any other grim reaper it would’ve been fine. But he was the one who came for my parents when they died.”

Jason’s expression flickered, raw shock then a hardened understanding flitting across his features. “I’m sorry,” he said lowly. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. You don’t have to stay here either if you feel unsafe with him around.”

Dick knew only one thing: that he didn’t want to go, not when Jason was still here, the one person he could muster the courage to tell about that night. “I can stay,” he said. “And I should talk about it. I want to.”

Jason rose from the floor to sit next to him. His shoulder brushed against Dick’s as he looked over at him. “I’m listening.”

So Dick told him. About how he watched his mother and father fall from above, the darkness closing in on their plummeting bodies. How even that high up, he’d heard the thud of their bodies, seen the sprawl of their lifeless limbs. How his heart beat in his throat, his body moving automatically, scaling down the rope ladder, even as he kept his eyes locked on their still forms under the stark white spotlight. How as soon as his feet touched the ground, he was moving towards them, falling with them, reaching for his mother’s face only to halt at the sight of her neck bent at the wrong angle, at his father’s body just behind, face down in a pool of blood that spread slowly.

Their bodies had filled his sight until a gentle hand turned his face away and he found himself looking instead at the ghost of his mother, felt the familiar touch of her hand cupping his cheek without the texture of the calluses on her palm or the scent of her perfume wreathing around her, and the joy of seeing her whole again was eclipsed only by the grief of what it meant. 

His father’s ghost knelt beside her, took Dick’s hand, and squeezed it. And even that gesture, of his father’s large hand covering his, gently folding his fingers down the same way he had when training Dick to hold onto the trapeze bar for the first time, was enough for him to press his forehead to their intertwined hands and sob.

Then a shadow had fallen over the three of them. A shadow that belonged to a tall man in a black suit who stared down at Dick with pitiless green eyes. But Dick had known even then that it was no man, not when its shadow chilled to the bone everything it touched, sank its claws into Dick’s skin and dug in.

This was the part he had trouble remembering, Dick told Jason. The man had said his mother and father’s names - invoking both his mother’s _Gadžo_ and Roma names - and then said some more things but what Dick held onto was its very last sentence. “Your time has come,” it had said, and Dick had looked into the face of death to pray. “Please,” he said. Please don’t take them from me. Please, they’re all that I have. I’ll do anything.”

And his prayer went unanswered as the grim reaper regarded him impassively. “Let this be your one and only warning not to forge a promise with death you cannot keep,” it said flatly. “You have an entire life ahead of you to continue losing and regaining that which you love. Do not squander it.” 

It had rested its gloved hands on his mother’s and father’s shoulders. “You cannot afford to linger any longer. Come.” And then the three of them had begun to fade away. 

Dick had only time to see his mother mouthing, “ _Me kamav tut_ ,” and his father watching him steadily before they vanished. Stunned, he had reached out and his hands passed through air. When he had looked down, he saw that his hands were stained with red and below, his parents were still unmoving.

He’d been sitting in their blood this whole time while their ghosts slipped out of his hands. The shock, the pain of it all had been all consuming, enough so everything afterwards had been a blur: the hands tugging him upwards, the flash of red-blue sirens and the faceless police workers and social workers who pulled him away from the only family and home he’d had.

Jason was quiet for a moment. “You tried to buy as much time as you could to keep your family together for longer. And then he’d taken them away from you without giving you the chance to say goodbye.”

Dick only nodded. He hadn’t even had the chance to ask them how he could continue living on without them, how he could do it alone without his father’s laughter to warm the nights and his mother’s stories to brighten the days. 

“ _Me kamav tut_ ,” Jason said and Dick blinked at how naturally the words fell from Jason’s mouth, had to blink even harder when he realized how long it had been since another person said them to him. “What does that mean?”

“I love you,” Dick said. Aware of the naked emotion in his voice, he looked down and murmured, “In Rromani ćhib. I haven’t spoken the language since they died.”

“Your name,” Jason said. “You’d told me about your mom’s _Gadžo_ and Roma names. What about yours?” 

Dick looked back up into his turquoise eyes, startled. He hadn’t realized Jason had listened so closely to him. “ _Gadžo_ means anything that’s non-Roma. But my _Gadžo_ name was partly inspired by _dik_ , the Roma word for seeing. I think my mom had sensed from the start that I had supernatural sight.” He smiled at the childhood memory of her explaining the origins of his name to him when he’d buried his face in her lap and sobbed that people were making fun of his name. _Little one,_ she’d said. _Your name means you’ll see worlds the rest of us only dream of us seeing_. “She never had a problem with me talking to people nobody else could see. She said it was good I had friends outside the people and animals of the circus.”

“That’s good, that she thought of your sight as a gift,” Jason said and smiled, just the side of his mouth quirking up, but something unraveled in Dick at the softness of the gesture “If she named you for it, that means her love for you has been living on through your name, right?. Your dad too - If he taught you how to hang on and let go of the trapeze, haven’t you been applying that to your life even after his passing? To hold your own and trust in others who would catch you when you fall. They’ve been with you the whole time.” 

“Oh,” Dick said, his throat tightening, and this time when he blinked, he felt tears blurring his vision. He hadn’t thought of it like that, that someone could look at him and see love, the love John and Mary Grayson had for their son, a love that he’d always carry with him.

But past the film of moisture in his eyes, he could see alarm dawning on Jason’s face and a shaky laugh slipped out at Jason’s alarm morphing into a _fuck, I made him cry, how do I fix this?_ expression. “I’m _happy_ ,” Dick clarified. “I’m crying because it made me really happy to hear you say that. Thank you.” He scrubbed at his eyes as a thought struck him and he smiled at Jason wetly. “I was crying the first time you met me too. I haven’t changed at all. You’ve had to support me all this time. I wish I could do more for you. I wanted to make you happy. Especially on our first date. But I really blew it, huh?”

“Dick,” Jason said.

“Yeah?”

“I want you to be honest with me. A hundred times over, I’d rather you cry than try to bury the sadness and lie to me and yourself that everything’s perfect and you’ve got a handle on it when it’s really killing you from inside out.” Jason’s voice had begun to rise in volume but he took a deep breath in an effort to rein himself in. “I want you to let me in so I can be with you when it’s too much for you to bear on your own,” he said much more quietly. He looked at Dick. “And you do enough for me. You’re fine just the way you are. So don’t be too hard on yourself. Otherwise, I’m going to have to keep being nice to you and that’s going to be uncomfortable for both of us.”

“But you’ve always been nice to me,” Dick replied and felt himself smile at the look Jason shot him. “By hot, grizzled, bad boy guardian angel standards.” He laughed as Jason let out a groan. 

“You’re incorrigible, Grayson. Toe the line any further and you’ll have to pay for your own dinner at this rate.” Jason paused and for the first time, Dick sensed the slightest bit of hesitation in him. “That is, if you still want dinner and a movie on my dime.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Dick replied and he found that he did mean it. Talking to Jason had lifted a weight off his chest, not only from the encounter with the grim reaper, but a weight that had been there for the past five years. He felt light, light in the same way he had when he’d swung through the air as a Flying Grayson, and the knowledge that he had not forgotten the feeling was enough that he had to suppress the smile that threatened to break through.

Apparently he wasn’t successful because Jason dryly commented, “No need to look that excited. It’s not going to be a five star experience.”

They ended up ordering Thai from the place around the corner, digging into gang dang gai and jasmine rice on Jason’s bed, while watching _Into the Spiderverse_ on Jason’s battered laptop propped up on a pillow and it was perfect. Jason had let Dick pick the movie, wryly remarking that the filmmaking industry varied from universe to universe so he had no idea what was good to watch in this world, so Dick thought he might appreciate a story about multiverse-traveling vigilantes. Dick loved it too - for the beautiful colors, the fluid animation, and the lovable characters. And the scene of Miles Morales leaping off the skyscraper, plummeting downwards, hit him harder tonight. But Miles wasn’t falling; he was rising, soaring across the skyline of New York, coming into his own.

“That was good,” Jason said when the movie ended. “I haven’t enjoyed a movie like that in a while.” He glanced sideways at Dick. “For once, I think I’m going to have to admit you have good taste.” 

“Can’t you compliment me without insulting me too?” Dick complained but he grinned anyways at the warmth of Jason’s approval diffusing through his body. 

“Maybe by the third date,” Jason shot back. “It’ll require a lot of practice. So, ready to wrap up the night? I can take you home.” 

The glow Jason had instilled in him began to fade. Dick opened his mouth. He should thank him and say yes. But saying yes would mean returning home to an apartment where he’d have to face his inevitable nightmares on his own; he’d dreamt long enough about his parents falling to anticipate jolting awake the moment their bodies hit the ground and the sinking realization that they were gone would pull him down into a downward spiral, one where he could only breathe and feel their absence carved inside him. Steph and Cass would be there, sure, but he had worked hard to earn their respect, to pull his weight so as to not burden them any more than he already had, and having to hold himself together without them seeing somehow felt lonelier than when he’d had to handle it on his own. 

So what Dick found himself saying instead was, “I don’t want to be alone.”

And Jason, without batting an eye, replied, “Then you won’t be.” He nodded at Dick. “Take the bed. Don’t fight me on this. I have business with Damian anyways so I’m going to be up late so it makes sense for you to take the bed since you’re going to sleep first.” He began collecting the empty takeout containers, not minding Dick’s stunned silence as Dick struggled to process how readily Jason had just taken him in for the night without asking any questions, how easy it was for Jason to decide to accept Dick and all the baggage he was bringing with him. 

Dick finally croaked out the first question that came to mind: “The grim reaper has a name?”

“Damian? Yeah, that’s his name. He doesn’t know it yet but I do.” Jason dropped the takeout containers into a plastic bag and neatly tied the ends into a knot. “I’m going to the kitchen to toss this out and have a talk with Damian. I’m turning right from this room so you can turn left to find the bathroom. There’ll be extra toothbrushes and cups in the bottom of the cabinet there. You can borrow my toothpaste. I know you didn’t bring a change of clothes with you so you can borrow a shirt of mine from my closet. I don’t have many so just take your pick.” 

“OK.” Dick swallowed down his gratitude that Jason knew that Dick still wasn’t ready to be in proximity with the grim reaper yet and considered everything Dick might need for the night so thoroughly. He moved to stand up and tugged on Jason’s jacket before he could swing the door open, craning his neck to look up at Jason. “Listen. I just wanted to say … thank you. For letting me stay the night and for everything else. I promise I’ll stop causing you so many problems after this. 

Jason looked back at him, his eyes glinting. “You’re not causing me any problems. I know what it’s like to be haunted by the things that wait for you in your sleep. So I’d be a dick to turn you away. _Don’t_ make a pun and good night. I’ll come back later.” With that, he walked out the door and hearing another voice snippily greet him, Dick snuck away to the bathroom. 

In the next ten minutes, Dick would learn several things. One, that as he brushed his teeth and glanced to the side, he noticed the shower curtain was patterned with little cartoon cats and dogs wearing raincoats. He nearly spat out his toothpaste in laughter at the thought Jason had purchased it before coming to the startling conclusion that if Jason had only recently arrived to this world, then the grim reaper - Damian - must have been the one to buy such a cutesy thing as the apartment owner. He was unsure of how he felt about that but thought if he ever felt the same fear encountering Damian again, he just had to think of the shower curtain. 

Two, when he made his way back to Jason’s bedroom, thankfully unnoticed by the sound of low voices still coming from the kitchen, and padded towards Jason’s closet, he found only four black shirts hanging there that must have come in a pack and spoke to a lifestyle where Jason needed a quick and easy way of acquiring clothes without the expectation of holding onto it in the next world over. The rest of Jason’s room, come to think of it, was barren, furnished only with the minimum necessities. Dick understood well what it was like to be on the move and to pack light but even he’d had things to hold onto that didn’t serve a need as much as they just made him happy for the sake of being happy. He resolved that he would bring Jason more things like that. 

Third, when he changed clothes and slipped on Jason’s shirt, it fell down to his thighs, almost covering his boxers. If it hadn’t been such a tiring day, he would have felt some sort of way about it; but in the present, he could only rub the hem of the shirt between his fingers and marvel at how it made him feel safe, the same way he had felt safe enveloped by Jason’s frame when he’d first had a panic attack at the front door, a moment that felt like eons ago. But as Dick slid under the covers and closed his eyes, he couldn’t bring himself to dwell on it, drifting instead into a darkness that comforted, rather than frightened him.

He gradually awoke to the bedroom door creaking open and someone sitting down next to him. Before his mind could process the arrival of a possible threat the scent of smoke and the sound of creaking leather confirmed the presence belonged to Jason. He let himself relax and kept his eyes closed while Jason sat with him, still and silent. He only had time to think Jason must be watching over him, that Jason had promised he wouldn’t be alone and was keeping it now, before sleep claimed him once more.

When Dick next woke, sunlight was streaming in through the window and a feeling of well-rested contentment had settled in his body. He blinked as he tried to piece together what he had dreamt, _if_ he had dreamt at all. But nothing came to mind, just the sensation of flying, the wind gently ruffling his hair like the way his father did when he was proud of Dick. 

Jason must have warded off the nightmares, Dick thought dazedly before realizing the man was in the room with him. 

Not man, immortal, he reminded himself as he looked down at Jason curled up asleep and found his gaze snagging on the jagged scars that had been gouged into the stretches of Jason’s skin visible to Dick, Jason’s shoulders and part of his torso, while the rest of Jason’s body was concealed beneath a mass of tangled blankets.

Dick swallowed. He’d known Jason was in pain from the start from the way he carried himself, even moreso when he’d encountered the Knight in his terrible, lonely rage, but only now in taking in the scarred terrain of his body did he understand the magnitude of the years of violence Jason had absorbed. Dick looked at the groove extending from Jason’s shoulder downwards to the center of his chest, thought of dry earth that had cracked, eroded to make way to the rivers that would course through them, and then how Jason’s body had its own history, flesh tearing and bones cracking only to be knitted painstakingly back together over the course of time. It made sense then that even while Jason slept, he was tense, thick brows furrowed and mouth a downward slash as he dreamed of things beyond Dick’s grasp.

And yet Jason had been gentle with him, had indulged him at every turn, eased his pain in any and every way he could. Dick’s heart twisted. He wanted to close the distance between his body and Jason’s, burrow into him and press close to smooth away the edges of his pain, to take away his hurt so Jason no longer had to curl in on himself like a wounded animal. 

Dick’s eyes drifted to the sword hilt jutting out of Jason’s chest. He would draw it out of him so Jason could open himself to a world that didn’t hurt to be in it. 

With that, Dick slipped out of bed, his resolve firm. If Jason deserved good things, he would do his very best to give them to him. Even if it was something as small as making him breakfast.

A small act made complicated by the fact he made his way to the kitchen and found someone there already, a tall somebody with piercing green eyes that swept across the scene before locking onto Dick.

Dick’s breath hitched in spite of himself. _Shower curtain_ , he reminded himself. _Shower curtain with puppies and kittens._ But something else caught his attention.

“The grim reaper wears pajamas?” Dick blurted out, a tinge of hysteria in his voice.

The grim reaper - Damian - put down a cup of tea and folded his arms in his very nice, matching navy silk pajamas. “What else would you expect me to wear?” 

“Your black suit? You were wearing it when you opened the door for me yesterday too. I’ve only ever seen you in it so I couldn’t picture you in anything else.”

“Yes, well, I can assure you I wear other things. Even the occasional hoodie and basketball shorts if I’m feeling adventurous.”

Dick giggled at that and Damian’s mouth twitched into the semblance of a smile. The tension in the room thawed and suddenly emboldened, Dick came closer, pulling out a chair to take a seat and watching Damian. “Um, so what does Jason like to eat for breakfast?”

Damian goggled at him. “You would expect me to know the troglodyte’s culinary preferences?”

“Hey, that’s not nice,” Dick shot back without thinking and the instantaneous terror that washed over him at the fact he had just called a grim reaper not nice was curbed only by how ridiculous Damian’s expression looked. “Um, I mean. If you had any tips, that’d be helpful. Just ‘cause ...I wanted to do something nice for him. He’s been taking good care of me.”

Damian huffed at that. “What you mean is, he’s been absurdly territorial about you. It would irk me if not for the fact he has acted so utterly like a besotted buffoon that I can only muster pity and disdain for him. I will, however, not fault you for his actions.” 

“Uh, that’s a little too many syllables for me to process at this hour of the morning. But I think you insulted Jason again but were nice to me so … thank you?”

Damian pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “Omelettes. I’ve seen Todd enjoy them from time to time.”

Taken aback by how human Damian looked in that moment, Dick had to gather his bearings to reply, “Yeah, I think omelettes are doable. Full disclaimer, though, I once set a pan on fire while making pancakes and Jason had to intervene so it might be good to have a kitchen supervisor here just in case, if you’re not busy?”

Damian inclined his head. “I have today off so it should be fine.” Before Dick could wrap his mind around the idea that grim reapers could take days off, Damian handed him a carton of eggs and a package of ham. “I can prepare the peppers and onions but you will have to be responsible for the meat products since I would prefer not to handle them. Utensils are in the cabinet to your left.”

For the next few minutes, they fell into a companionable silence as Dick found a bowl to whisk the eggs in and Damian chopped peppers next to him. Up close, Damian still loomed over him, tall and broad-shouldered, but his presence was no longer oppressive. The realization he felt this comfortable around the grim reaper was enough to momentarily still his hands with the heaviness of something approaching guilt.

Dick began whisking again, the swirling contents of the egg yolk mirroring his emotional state. “So,” he said 

“So,” Dick said conversationally. “I just realized it’s a little weird for me to be cooking breakfast with the guy who disappeared my parents and not talk about it. I mean, I don’t blame you for the fact they died but you swept them away and slammed the door on me before I could even process their deaths and say goodbye.” 

Damian was quiet for a moment. “Richard,” he said. “I do not think you would have been capable of saying goodbye. Not if you were willing to sign your life away to death to ensure a more permanent existence for them.” His voice was not unkind but Dick still flinched at his words, the sting of a truth he hadn’t prepared to hear. Damian put down his knife to face Dick. “I mean you no harm. While I cannot say I understand how you feel, I recognize how far humans would go for the sake of love. That being said, when you made a vow to Death, it would not have been to me but Lord Death himself, who have you pay two lifetimes of service in exchange for your parents. The existence he would bind you to would be an unceasing tortured one. The only part I could play was to lay John and Mary Grayson to rest before any other of Death’s ears caught wind of your vow and took advantage of you. Your parents understood as well and came with me of their own accord.”

Of all the things Dick had expected Damian to say, it wasn’t that Damian had acted out of genuine concern for him, to protect him. All this time, he had remembered a grim reaper who had looked down at him, a cruel and pitiless being who knew nothing of his pain of losing the people he loved most in the world and the lengths he would go to bring them back. Damian had been a monster in his eyes. But he saw now all the pieces falling into place: Damian’s warning to him to not throw away his life, the lack of resistance his parents had shown to Damian asking - asking, not forcing - them to come with him. 

Dick looked down and his eyes burned. How could he have been so fucking stupid? “So it was because of me you had to take them away. They could have remained as ghosts if I hadn’t made a mess of everything by trying to get their lives back.” 

“Richard, look at me.” Dick looked up into green eyes that held, for the first time, a semblance of human compassion. “The last thing you should be thinking is that this was your fault. I will tell you this once and you will pretend that you reached this conclusion naturally instead of receiving classified information from a grim reaper but your parents were meant to ascend to the place you humans know as ‘heaven’. They could not be bound to Earth as ghosts because their greatest desire, for you to live well, is not a finite objective that can be actualized in a single moment. Instead, they will most likely have been watching over you from above and are waiting for you to join them in living out your lifetime.” 

Dick sniffled. He hadn’t thought closure would come in the form of a grim reaper breaking protocol to tell him that his parents were resting well and had been with him this whole time. “It’s the onions,” he said because he had cried too many times in the span of twenty four hours and needed some sort of excuse to pull himself together with. 

“But I was chopping peppers, not onions -”

“It’s the onions!” Dick said more loudly and wiped at his cheeks with one arm. “Could you pass me a tissue please?” A tissue was handed to him and he scrubbed at his eyes vigorously. “There, all better. OK, we’ve got omelettes to cook! You’ll be having one too, right? Vegetarian?”

Damian, thankfully, had picked up on Dick’s strategy of steamrolling onwards by now. “Yes, that’s correct. Thank you for having remembered.” 

And when Jason would stumble blearily in the kitchen, having thrown on a shirt and jeans and blinking blearily, it would be to the sight of Dick sliding omelettes onto plates and Damian setting the table.

Jason stared at them. “I must be dreaming still.”

The little voice in Dick’s head pointed out how attractive Jason’s sleep-rough voice was, how it would feel so nice to run his fingers through Jason’s tousled hair and pull him down -

Dick swiftly shoved the voice out of his mind in favor of beaming at Jason. “Hi! Thanks again for letting me stay the night. We made your breakfast.”’ 

“Grayson made you breakfast, I had nothing to do with it,” Damian pitched in. “Be grateful.”

Dick passed a plate to Jason, who had pulled a chair up to the table. He looked at the omelette wordlessly, silent for so long Dick was beginning to feel nervous that the dish wasn’t up to Jason’s standards, when he said at last, “No one’s cooked for me in a long time.” His voice was tight. 

Dick now understood why Jason had been so panicked when he’d cried last night because hearing Jason’s voice now made Dick want to cry. Dick had to clear his throat. “Well, of course, I would! I’m your bride after all.” 

His words had the desired effect of de-escalating as Jason, caught off guard, laughed. “Brat,” he said in a tone of voice so fond it would have sent a thrill of warmth through Dick if it hadn’t been for Damian choking right next to him. Respectively bewildered and bemused, Dick and Jason watched Damian hack and wheeze.

When Damian had recovered, he addressed Dick. “I understood Todd was protective of you but I had assumed you were one of his wards that he had taken under his wing as the Knight. I hadn’t expected you to be his _bride_ .” The implications of what exactly _bride_ meant to Damian must have sunk in because he then whirled around to face Jason with a thunderous expression. “Todd, if you possess any sort of lewd intentions and so much as deign to make an unsavory advance on Grayson, I will personally deliver you to Lord Death myself!”

Jason flushed, his tawny skin turning red. “Get your mind out of the goddamn gutter, nothing ‘unsavory’ is going on and even if it was, it’d be none of your fucking business, D!” he barked. He pulled a chair out for Dick with more force than was necessary. “Sit before he puts any more weird ideas in your head.” 

Dick, concealing a smile, sat down as Damian scowled and took a seat at the other end of the table.

As he ate, Dick found the omelette tasted good but sharing a breakfast with Jason and Damian, as lively banter filled the air just like the meals he’d enjoyed with the crew at Haly’s, was even better. 

Dick would be more than happy to inform Duke, via text, and Babs, when they next hung out, that he’d had a _wonderful_ first date. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a few notes!  
> a) in including duke thomas in this story, i'm very committed to doing justice to his character. please feel free to share any thoughts regarding how to maintain or improve his characterization in this fic :)  
> b) i very much apologize for any rromani ćhib errors i may have made and if i made any mistakes in characterizing romani naming traditions. romani readers, please feel free to let me know in the comments if there's anything i should fix or address better.  
> c) thank you, as always, for reading :>

**Author's Note:**

> title drawn from rabindranath tagore's poem "unending love" - "i seemed to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times ... in life after life, in age after age, forever."  
>   
> a very special shoutout to the dedicated folks who contribute and revise content on the dc fandom wikia - thanks to them, i was able to pore through articles on the multiverse to incorporate different universes into the story.  
>   
> * an additional thank you to fiery_day for having checked in to ensure the continuity of the fic in portraying the ages of jason and dick! edits have been made to reflect the fact they are (1)22 and 18.


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